He was dying.

He knew he was dying, and regretted only that he would never see Elfé again. Not her, not her father Veld, not his few remaining Hundred nor even the bloody Turk.

The pain was too great; he couldn’t even open his eyes.

But the fight wasn’t over.

Shears hadn’t been lying when he told the Turk that before Elfé, only the pain from fighting made him feel alive.

With a bellow like a wounded ox, he surged to his feet between the Turk and the thing that had been Fuhito. Words were exchanged; he couldn’t remember what they were even as he said them. And then-- The scythes that served it for arms slashed across his chest, biting through flesh and bone and tearing into his heart--

He drew back his fist and punched the Summon materia with all the rage and hate he could muster--

The materia and his hand shattered at the same time. 

Cold swarmed him and, as everything went white, Shears grinned.

The last thing he knew was a primal satisfaction.

For a time, there was peace.

Sensation, like a hand along his jaw.

Sound: “She misses you terribly.”

A woman’s voice, familiar.

It took effort to reply. “Ma...?”

Now a masculine chuckle. “Not quite, boss.”

At that voice, sorrow. “Hobbie? Hoped you’d made it...”

Another chuckle, sadder. “Almost did. Almost did.”

The woman again: “You’re still needed. This isn’t the place for you.”

“She’s right,” agreed Hobbie. “Go back, boy.”

Vision came to him, a stocky dark man and a woman who looked like Elfé, shrouded in pearlescent white; behind them stood several of his Hundred. “Take care of her,” the woman said, and white became blue, rushing down past him, tasting of salt.

There’s a metallic taste in his mouth, the taste of betrayal. He knows all about that, it seems to fit him well enough—but this time it was directed at him. The reason he was here was to take control of the situation—he funneled money into this terrorist group and they couldn’t even perform the ‘simple’ task of getting rid of his father.. for good. He’s fuming, his steel-blues narrowing and causing the crinkle to appear under his eyes, the crease to form above his brow—ah yes, he looked just like his father when he was in his late teens. As much as Rufus detested the thought of being like his Old Man, he carried a vast amount of traits he would try desperately to shed later in life. Sometimes, you become what you hate.

“What is the meaning of this? I asked for you do this task and now you’re disobeying my orders!” The Vice President bellowed, his hands clenching to fists while his firm footage stopped just in front of Fuhito. Unfazed by the rage that was whipping off the young president, Fuhito reached out and grabbed him by the collar. 

“Don’t you get it! I’m DONE taking orders from you! I no longer need your funding.” He shoved him away, grinning in defiance. Free from all above him, he would take things into his own hands finally. Not that he was doing so to begin with, just strategically waiting for the time to disembark. There’s the echo of shoes against grates and Veld appeared, eyes wide at the scene before him. There’s a tremble, the shaking of iron bars, the reactor responding to sabotage attack underneath. They were bent on taking out one of the reactors. 

But it wasn’t the lack of foundation that the Director was focusing on—it was Elfé his daughter. “Elfé..daughter.” He said, loud enough for Rufus to hear and certainly Elfé as well. There was another tremble, a flourish of footage as the Turks reached the summit. 

Except you’re lying because I’m the one who built your damn bed frame. I was there when you picked out the mattress!

Foolishly dropping her guard, Melody smiled with hands held out grabbing the much needed sustenance. A bite was taken without any hesitation , the thought of poisoning only crossing her mind an instant later. Brows furrowing in worry, the woman looked at the sugared concoction  and then back at Elfe before shrugging off any concerns .  There was worse ways to go after all.

" It was a pain keeping up with you," Melody commented through a mouth full of food. She gestured to the woman's leg adding, "Speaking of pain, I'm surprised you're not in more of it,  but I suppose it's none of my business."

After an apathetic shrug at her observation, the Turk cut right to the chase,  "So who are you, anyway? "

Melody tilted her head to the side, a curious look gracing her features as she ignored the constant buzzing coming from her phone. It seemed her superior had received the picture, but she had more pressing matters at hand than to get chewed out by him. This curiosity was killing her after all.

Melody sighed, reminding herself it could be worse. No matter how much she hated being in unfamiliar settings, not knowing the in and outs, or even in all honestly where the hell she was, it was simply the price to pay when ShinRa practically owned you. And with that ShinRa, or rather Tseng, had decided to send her on this mission. Find the targets whereabouts, record their activity, and report back every day, he had told her. Simple enough, right? Surprisingly, this small theory was beginning to be proven wrong, because right now following one of the targets was turning out to be …well, boring and embarrassingly difficult,  especially since she had discovered she was very much out of her element. 

There were no overcrowded sidewalks filled with hurried footsteps , nor the symphony of car horns mixed with sirens and gunshots to make her feel at home. No thick smog that blocked the sky or bright neon lights that forever disrupted her joke of a sleeping schedule . No, the targets had to be here. Granted it wasn’t like this place was out in the middle of nowhere, but it wasn’t exactly a buzzing metropolis either.  It was too clean,  had too much unadulterated, fresh air, and  too many friendly people to make a former slum kid like her feel comfortable. Melody understood however why they were here, it being the ideal location for someone in hiding. It wasn’t crowded enough to feel suffocating , but not too small to  where the whole town would know your business by the end of the day. Perfect, just not for her.