From the outskirts of Gongaga's woods, Tseng watched his three subordinates disappear over the horizon on their black chocobos. Even after the fact, he had reservations about sending Reno, Rude, and Elena on vacation with so much happening. Still, it couldn't be helped; with Reno's persistence, they were going to go sometime. And now that things had quieted down a bit—with Sephiroth's destination known, and AVALANCHE clueless as to this—perhaps giving them time off at this precise moment would adequately recharge their batteries before they had to confront either of these adversaries again.
         A whirring of helicopter blades sounded over his head, and Tseng stepped back as the chopper came in for a. The back door opened and Scarlet poked her head out, waving Tseng over. Leaning forward against the current generated by the still spinning blades, Tseng walked toward the helicopter and got inside, placing himself next to Scarlet in the back seat.
         "Are we all done here, ma'am?"
         "Yes. Gongaga was a good idea, but as it turns out, the materia here is even worse than at Reactor #1."
         "Hmm," Tseng replied, nodding his head once. As the helicopter lifted off of the ground, he continued, "Listen, about Heidegger…"
         "What about him."
         "First off, what you said about him being my boss… I'm sure you're aware that he's no more of a boss to me than you are, or Palmer, or Reeve."
         "Yes, I know that. I'm sorry that you had to take my words out of context."
         Tseng couldn't believe this woman's haughtiness, but he didn't let it show. Instead, he continued in his typical straightforward manner; "Also, and forgive me if I'm getting too personal here, but I thought you and Heidegger were close colleagues. I was surprised to hear that insult of yours back in the Gongaga reactor."
         Scarlet's voice took on a harsher tone. "Well, he is stupid. He's just your typical male."
         "So all men are stupid?" Tseng asked, raising an eyebrow. They shared glances for a brief moment, then Scarlet burst out laughing.
         "Kya ha ha! Excepting present company, of course!"
         "…Of course…"
         Tseng didn't care what she thought of him. He saved any and all worrying about his image for those that mattered: his friends and his enemies. Everyone who fell in between these two groups was irrelevant.
         Scarlet asked, "Why would you care about Heidegger, anyway?"
         "I don't," Tseng replied. "By the way, when we reach the submarine, I'll be staying behind, if that's all right with you."
         "What for?"
         "Reno's given me some very important news regarding Sephiroth which I must discuss with the President. Rufus is still in Costa del Sol, correct?"
         "Last I heard. Well, I suppose if the news is that important, we can continue to search some other time. Besides, once Sephiroth leads us to the Promised Land, we should have all the materia we need."
         Tseng glanced over at Scarlet. "The Promised Land? Do you believe that's what Sephiroth's after?"
         "Of course. According to Palmer, Sephiroth told President Shinra that he wasn't going to let him have the Promised Land."
         "I was not aware of that…"
         "Sephiroth is obviously headed there now."
         Tseng pondered Scarlet's words. It was a desirable idea, especially considering the late President's wish to build a new city, Neo-Midgar, in a mako-rich location as the Promised Land was purported to be. However, upon recalling the few times Aeris had talked to him about the Cetra legend, he questioned the Promised Land's material existence. Whenever Aeris described it, she made it seem to be a more spiritual realm, beyond the reach and understanding of mere mortals.
         "What does the President make of your assumption?"
         "Kya ha ha! Who cares? For all I know, that little boy's primarily interested in avenging his father!"
         "And have you no compassion for him?" Not that Tseng himself had any…
         "Of course I do, but one must also look at Sephiroth's return as an opportunity."
         He found her optimism unsettling. After all, if Sephiroth really did know where the Promised Land was—and wanted to keep it out of the Company's hands—why hadn't he killed them all, instead of stopping at the elder Shinra? There seemed more to Sephiroth's motives than the simplistic explanations Scarlet was giving, but unfortunately, no one at Shinra—or even in AVALANCHE—knew what that "more" was. Actually there was one person who might know, but he had recently resigned from the company; the last place anyone had seen him was Costa del Sol, and that was about a week ago.
         "In Wutaiese," Tseng replied, "the pictogram for 'crisis' can also stand for 'opportunity'. I guess what this implies is that one goes hand in hand with the other."
         "See? Then you do know what I'm saying!"
         "Perhaps… but is the opportunity ours, or Sephiroth's?"
         Scarlet glared at the Turk darkly. "Ours, of course. It has to be ours."
         Tseng nodded, deciding that any effort to get her to question Sephiroth's motives would be futile. He took out his phone and placed a call to President Rufus to arrange their meeting.

         A few hours later, after Tseng had collected the rest of his gear from the submarine, he bid Scarlet farewell. Scarlet curtly returned the good-bye and boarded the sub. Once it left port, Tseng turned to the helicopter pilot and asked him to fly to the Gold Saucer. They reached the Saucer in a few hours, where Tseng promptly headed for Chocobo Square.
         Ester, the senior race manager, stood in her usual place by the staff entrance. She greeted the Turk with a smile and a bow as he approached her.
         "Mr. Tseng! What a surprise—you hardly ever come to the Gold Saucer! What brings you here?"
         "I need to borrow a chocobo to ride to Costa del Sol. I have to meet with President Rufus immediately to discuss an urgent matter."
         "All right," Ester replied. "Come inside and I'll see what we can do."
         Tseng followed Ester into the jockey's lounge. In the center of the room, a dark-skinned man in a red and white riding outfit and wide-brimmed black hat was leisurely reading a newspaper, his feet propped up on the large table. He looked up from his paper as Ester and Tseng entered.
         "Not participating in this race, Joe?" the manager asked.
         "Nope. Teioh and I just won the last three. No point in going out on the track again for the rest of the day."
         "Joe, allow me to introduce Tseng Kawaguchi, the head of the Shinra Turk Alliance."
         The chocobo jockey stood up and shook Tseng's hand. "It's an honor, sir."
         "Joe," Ester explained, "is one of the top jockeys here at the Gold Saucer. Teioh is his specially-bred black chocobo."
         Tseng nodded; "Pleased to meet you."
         Ester turned back to Joe. "Would you happen to know if there are any chocobos we can spare? Mr. Tseng needs a river-crosser to get to Costa del Sol."
         Joe walked over to the elevator and pressed the button. "I'm not sure. We already have three black ones on loan to those other Turks. Might have to settle for a blue one. If we're really lucky, one of the younger gold birds'll be around."
         Ester and Tseng followed Joe inside the elevator. The jockey swiped his keycard in a slot just above the buttons, then pressed one that was marked by the silhouette of a chocobo's head. "The stables are downstairs, two floors beneath us," Joe explained to Tseng as they descended. The elevator soon came to a stop and the doors slid open. "Ah, here we are."
         They entered a massive, brightly-lit circular room. Three curved rows of chocobo pens flanked each side. Looking down the pathway that stretched before them, Tseng could make out a large grassy courtyard in the center of the room, where a couple of purple chocobos were peacefully grazing.
         Joe led the way down the first row on their left which, as it turned out, was empty save for a single black bird all the way at the end. Once the bird caught sight of Joe, it greeted him with a melodic chirp.
         "Hey Teioh!" Joe answered as they walked toward the bird's pen. "So you're here by yourself, eh? All your buddies out racing?"
         The chocobo, Teioh, answered with a gruff "Wark!" as Joe reached out to stroke his shiny black coat.
         Tseng gazed at the bird in awe. Although he was of average size for a racing chocobo, Teioh seemed bigger, with a domineering, commanding air that was unbecoming for his species. His dark eyes shone with a hard light, complementing his silken feathers, and his smooth orange beak made him appear all the more majestic. Joe lightheartedly made the introductions; "Teioh, this is Mr. Tseng. Tseng, Teioh."
         Teioh regarded the newcomer curiously, but without hesitation. The bird shifted his head toward Tseng's outstretched hand, allowing it to scratch him under his beak. Tseng found this unusual; all the chocobos he'd ever known were nervous, jittery creatures, especially when it came to meeting someone new. This chocobo, on the other hand, was confident, and seemed particularly comfortable with this imposing man in the dark Turk suit. After a few scratches, Tseng drew his hand away, but not his eyes.
         "He's a magnificent bird, isn't he?" Ester said. "One of our best three-year-olds."
         "Yes…" Tseng murmured. "He's certainly a wonderful creature."
         "Hey, don't forget about the jockey who raised and trained him!" Joe added good-naturedly. "Now, let's move on to the next row. We may have better luck there." He patted Teioh on the head. "See you later, my friend."
         Teioh warked his farewell as Joe and Ester turned to leave. Tseng smiled at the strange bird before following the others, leaving the black chocobo alone again.

         About half an hour later, Tseng rode out into the desert prison on a wily gold chocobo named Gau. He had indeed lucked out; Gau's regular jockey had recently been sent back to the prison for some crime which he never caught the details of. As he left the prison, he could hear a man yelling curses at him; probably Gau's former jockey, Tseng thought. The chocobo galloped across the sand and rocks, avoiding the land worms and cactuars that now populated this once-green land. As the desert's edge came into view, Tseng's PHS rang; it was a Shinra manager calling to finalize the arrangements for the Head Turk's meeting with the President. Everything was now in place save for his presence in Costa del Sol, but that last little detail would be taken care of shortly.

*****

         Zack sat at the edge of the Ancient Forest, looking beyond the woods and hills toward Gongaga, the tiny village he had left nearly ten years ago to fulfill his childhood dream of joining SOLDIER. Nearby, five figures in black cloaks loitered amongst the trees, hunched over and whispering to themselves. Zack thought he might have been able to regain some self-control in his hometown, maybe even change his physical appearance, but he never got as far in Gongaga as he did on that cargo ship. In that late night confrontation against Reno, he could have sworn that Jenova's grasp on him was stronger than it had ever been, but it was not until after they had flown off that he figured out why.
         It was these guys in the black cloaks who were following them. They had some kind of connection to Sephiroth, as the few times they spoke, they hissed his name. Many of them also mentioned the Reunion, but when Zack asked them if they knew what this "Reunion" actually was, they fell silent. He wanted to ask Jenova more about the cloaked men, and also about the Reunion, but after some deliberation, he didn't see the point. For one thing, he was her slave whether he liked it or not; for another, she could read his mind at her own leisure, and doubtless knew well of his musings.
         Zack thought about the previous night. He had been wandering all over town, shocked and saddened by what he saw. Back before his fated mission in Nibelheim, he hadn't heard anything about there being a reactor explosion; Zack theorized that it must've happened while he was locked away in the Shinra Mansion's basement. Then, he thought of his family; what fate had they suffered? His heart lodged into his throat, Zack sneaked up to his parents' house and was relieved to see them sleeping peacefully. He turned away from the house and, after peering in a few other windows, found himself wandering over to the graveyard. It was then, when he saw the familiar form lingering by the Reeves plot, that Jenova yanked hard on Zack's invisible strings and guided her human marionette toward the Turk.
         Zack wanted to say something, anything, that would force Reno to question the identity of the man before him. However, his strings only wound tighter as two of the black-cloaked men drew closer to Zack. Helpless, he watched and listened as Reno steeled himself for battle. Then, the Turk twitched, and Zack found himself embroiled in various images. A large office in the Shinra building, Yoshiro at one desk and a bald man at another. A vast plain, with a large rocket in the distance. A mako reactor in Midgar. A street in Sector Two. A hospital room, and another, and another. Two black chocobos. Two grey claws. Two blonde women. Two red materia. A bearded man laying on a large sofa; shirt undone, furious. All these images and many more flooded into Zack's consciousness within a few seconds. When "Sephiroth" incited Reno to anger, Zack was appalled. Although he did his best not to pay too much attention to the mental cacophony of Reno's memories, he couldn't ignore the ruthless manner in which his captor was using them.
         "Jenova," he quietly thought, "please don't make me do that again."
         "You will do what we will you to," said a voice from behind him.
         Zack whirled around to see one of the cloaked men approach. He drew back his hood as he stopped at Zack's side, revealing long silver hair and two feline blue eyes. Zack scrambled to his feet, not believing what he saw.
         "Sephiroth… is it really you? Or are you another figment of Jenova?"
         "I will leave that for you to decide, puppet," the figure answered, a thin smile on his lips. "Now that the Reunion has begun, my power is steadily growing. I should have all that I need by the time the Black Materia is in my possession."
         Just then, Zack felt Jenova's consciousness surface, and he hissed, "Don't you mean 'we'? All of your plans and accomplishments have come about because of me!"
         "Mother," the Sephiroth-figure replied, with a touch of tenderness. "I don't wish to compete with you, but you must realize that your time is over, and mine is just beginning. Once I become this planet's supreme being, you will be revered as the mother of a god!"
         "Just remember that you are merely a part of me, like all the rest."
         "Ahh, but perhaps the greatest part of all. Isn't that right, Zack?"
         His mouth suddenly freed from Jenova's control, it flexed and twitched before answering, "I… I wouldn't know."
         The Sephiroth-figure smiled. "Of course you wouldn't. Your memories have been misplaced."
         Zack didn't reply.
         "They will be returned to you, but not before your friend Cloud does something for me first."
         "I'll be damned if you drag him into this."
         Bursting out into laughter, the figure replied, "I'm afraid he's already in far deeper than either of you know." He pulled his hood back over his head and started to walk away, hunched over. Zack ran up to him and grabbed him by the shoulder.
         "Sephiroth!"
         "Great… Se… phi…. roth……"
         "Damn!" Zack exclaimed as he let the figure go. Sephiroth's consciousness had left, leaving things as they were before. "Jenova, that wasn't really him, was it?"
         "It was," Jenova replied. "When Sephiroth died, he couldn't disseminate into this planet as other spirits do. He remained solid, isolated, as I was. He has grown strong and knowledgeable since then…"
         "I know I've asked this many times, but just what is the Reunion?"
         "It is the gathering… of which Sephiroth is the final piece."
         "The gathering of what? How are me and these men in black tied to you and Sephiroth?"
         Jenova, as was typical of her, changed the subject. "We must leave soon, for Nibelheim."
         "Nibelheim…" Perhaps there would be answers there. Perhaps, Zack thought vainly, even lost memories.

*****

         Rufus stood just outside the small building adjacent to the lighthouse, dressed in an indigo polo shirt, white shorts, and leather sandals. Despite the length of time he'd spent in Costa del Sol on this trip, his skin remained as pale as ever, save for a few traces of sunburn around his neck and arms. Heidegger was with him; laughing his fool head off, as usual. Impatiently, the young President glanced at his watch, then looked up to see a familiar figure come onto the dock, steadily growing larger as it briskly approached the lighthouse. With a grim smile, Rufus turned to Heidegger and said, "He made it. Looks like our meeting's finally going to start."

         At the top of the lighthouse, Tseng gave a brief recap of the news he had given to Rufus over the phone: Sephiroth had been sighted in Gongaga by Reno, and was believed to be heading for the Temple of the Ancients for some reason that had to do with the Black Materia. Rufus leaned against the railing and glanced thoughtfully at the Turk, whose long black hair whipped and flailed in the ocean breeze. He ran his hand back through his own and asked, "There's nothing else that he said? Nothing you haven't told me?"
         "Nothing that pertains to the mission, sir."
         "Very well. Now here's what I've been thinking," Rufus started. "The Highwind is still out of commission, so ordinarily, we'd have no way of getting to the island where the Temple is located."
         "I see. How about a Gelnika, sir?"
         "I considered that, but Heidegger here has informed me that the terrain of those islands is rather questionable. In other words, there's no guarantee we'll be able to safely land a Gelnika there. And don't you even think of suggesting a chocobo. I refuse to ride one of those filthy animals."
         Tseng sighed. "Then how are you planning on getting to the Temple, sir?"
         "Heidegger reminded me of something: Cid Highwind lives on this continent, and he has a plane called the Tiny Bronco. It's a bit larger than that craft down there," Rufus said, pointing to the red seaplane parked at the far end of the dock, "and conveniently, it's built for both long-range flights and landings on uneven terrain. It should be more than adequate for a trip to the Temple."
         "You do realize that it may be difficult to borrow the Bronco from Cid without offering him something in return."
         "And what could I possibly offer him?"
         Tseng stared out at the expanse of ocean. "Perhaps… a new influx of investment for the Space Program?"
         Rufus nodded. He was afraid Tseng was going to say that, as there really were no other options. He had hoped that the Turk's inventive brain would come up with something else. As usual, if he didn't ask too little from Tseng, he asked too much.
         "Nothing else? You mean that's the best you can do?"
         "Think about it, sir. Mr. Highwind is surely still bitter over the Space Program's indefinite hiatus. If we offered him any other position within the Air Force, he would consider it beneath him. So if you want to get to the Temple quickly, and I suggest you do, then you should dangle the most lucrative carrot you have. Mr. Heidegger, if I may ask your opinion on this matter…"
         Heidegger cleared his throat and glanced nervously at the President. Rufus gave the executive a single nod.
         "Well Tseng, the President and I discussed these things earlier, and came to the same conclusion that you did. However, considering the expenses incurred after the incidents in Midgar, combined with those allocated for the Neo-Midgar project, restarting the Space Program just doesn't seem like a realistic option at this time."
         "The Neo-Midgar project…"
         "Yes," Rufus replied. "In other words, the city we're going to build once the Promised Land is found. My father designated that this project be restarted the night of his death."
         Tseng said, "But that was when the Ancient was in Shinra custody."
         "And also before Sephiroth's return," Heidegger continued. "So it looks like Hojo's research was good for something after all."
         "Yes, I'm afraid you finally convinced me," Rufus said casually. "Sephiroth is heading to the Promised Land… to protect it from us." The President glanced over at the Turk, and was somewhat off-put by the alarm on his face.
         "Are you sure?" Tseng asked. "Sephiroth's motives don't seem as straightforward as that."
         "Well, what else could they be? Do you know?"
         "I have my spy currently looking into it."
         Rufus frowned. "Of course you do. Just be sure to tell Cait Sith to hurry the hell up."
         "Mr. President," Heidegger put in. "If I may offer a suggestion: perhaps Hojo would know."
         "What do you mean?"
         "Well, Professor Hojo was involved in the development of Sephiroth, wasn't he? He would know more than anyone else just what it is that's going through Sephiroth's mind."
         "An excellent suggestion, Heidegger. Tseng, I need you or one of your people to find Hojo and bring him to me for questioning."
         "Sir, the other Turks are on vacation right now. Therefore, I will find the Professor myself."
         Rufus raised an eyebrow. "On vacation, you say? And who authorized that?"
         "I did, sir."
         "And why did you do that?"
         "They needed the rest, sir."
         "I'm really disappointed in you, Tseng." Well, of course, that was always a given. "You mean with everything that's been going on, you have the nerve to grant your people some time off?"
         Tseng silently lowered his eyes. Rufus struggled to keep himself from smiling.
         "And all three of them? I haven't even gotten to our next order of business, which I would also like the Turks to take care of."
         "Another mission, sir? You never mentioned a second job when we talked over the phone."
         "That's because this incident only came to our attention after you left the Corel Desert," Rufus explained. "Heidegger—give him the details."
         "Yes sir," Heidegger replied. "Before the President and I left Midgar for Junon, I learned that Don Corneo was the one who tipped AVALANCHE off as to our plans for the Sector Seven plate. I sent some of my troops after him, but he's evaded us at every turn. We believe that he's currently en route to Wutai; I'm sending some MPs there now."
         "Wutai…" Tseng murmured. "That's where the other Turks are vacationing."
         Rufus said, "Then will you contact them and tell them to assist the MPs in capturing Corneo?"
         "I can certainly ask them. As per Company policy, they're under no obligation to work while on vacation, no matter the circumstances."
         Heidegger laughed understandingly, which drew a glare from Rufus that the Peace Preservation chair didn't seem to notice. "Gya ha ha! The old 'Turk work ethic' in action, eh? Well Tseng, ask away! Let them know that any help they can give will be very much appreciated."
         "I'll be sure to pass the word along, Mr. Heidegger. Mr. President, is that all right with you?"
         Brushing his bangs out of his eyes, Rufus replied, "It's not so much my concern as it is Heidegger's. You two do as you like."
         "Very well; I guess it's settled," said Tseng. "I will look for Hojo, while Peace Preservation and possibly the other Turks find Corneo."
         Heidegger nodded in confirmation. When both men turned to Rufus seeking his approval, the President said, "Just one more thing: are the other Turks in Wutai now?"
         "They've only just started their trip. I don't think they've even gotten as far as Nibelheim."
         "Perfect. Tseng, I want you to call them and tell—I mean, ask them to relay a message to Cid Highwind in Rocket Town, in person. Ask them to tell Cid that President Rufus and Palmer are on their way there to discuss a matter of great importance."
         "Palmer, sir?" Heidegger queried.
         "Of course. We don't have to mention the Space Program at all, but if Palmer's with me, that will put ideas into Cid's head. The wrong ones, of course."
         Tseng muttered, "So, you have no intention of restarting the Space Program."
         "Haven't we said that before? It's simply too expensive. Perhaps once the Promised Land is found we'll consider it, but not now. Do either of you have any other business to discuss with me this afternoon?"
         Heidegger replied with a "No sir", while Tseng remained silent.
         "Very well," sighed Rufus. "Meeting adjourned."

         After giving a quick salute, Heidegger started the descent to the base of the lighthouse. Rufus began to follow him, when he noticed that Tseng remained perfectly still by the railing, staring out at the blue sea. The Turk must have noticed Rufus' eyes burning into him, because after a moment he said, "Is there something else, sir?"
         Rufus closed the door to the stairwell and walked closer to Tseng. "Don't call me that."
         "I'm sorry, but I refuse to, sir. It would alter our relationship, and I can't function like that."
         "You're starting to piss me off."
         "My apologies. What should I call you, then?"
         Rufus thought about it for a moment, but couldn't think of anything he could truly be comfortable with. "Listen… just forget I said anything, okay?"
         "Very well."
         "Tseng," Rufus said, haunted by the sound of that name coming from his own lips, as he always was. Unfortunately, "Yoshiro" would have been just as bad, if not worse. "There's something I must know."
         With little hesitation, the Turk answered, "Yes?"
         "Why are you still here, as a Turk?"
         Rufus watched from behind as Tseng took a deep breath, then turned around to face him. Tseng's face was a mask—unreadable, unchanging—and his eyes were cold and hard.
         "I'm sorry sir, but it's personal. Are you implying that I should be doing something else?"
         "No…"
         "I don't understand what you're saying, sir. Don't you want me to work for you? Is my job performance not meeting your standards?"
         "Tseng, it's about what happened four years ago. That's why I ask."
         "Well, then," Tseng coolly replied, "if that's the case then, again, it's personal."
         Rufus said nothing. Tseng frowned slightly and turned his gaze back to the blue waters.
         "Sir, this whole business about the Promised Land… why are you going through with it?
         "Did you honestly think I'd come halfway across the world just to avenge my father?"
         "Rufus…"
         The President gave pause. Hearing his own name emanate from his former lover's mouth was too disquieting. "I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong. Part of the reason why I'm searching for the Promised Land is because it's what my father would've wanted."
         "You want to make him proud of you, don't you." The Turk's voice took a ponderous tone. "Even in death."
         "This has nothing to do with pride," Rufus snapped back, "and everything to do with carrying forth a legacy, and making it my own."
         "I see," Tseng replied, his voice growing cold again. Once more he turned to face Rufus. "Well, whatever you need to accomplish your goals, just remember that I'm here to serve."
         "Right. Listen, Tseng. There's just one more thing I need to know."
         "Yes, sir?"
         "Do you believe in revenge?"
         "Why do you ask?"
         "You know damned well why I ask."
         "Indeed."
         "Well?" Rufus demanded impatiently.
         "No, I don't believe in revenge," Tseng replied as he headed toward the stairwell door. "But my appointed successor does. Now, if you'll excuse me…"
         Rufus watched as Tseng opened the door and disappeared down the winding staircase.