Reports were made in the many subfiles of ShinRa documentation. Even then it didn’t provide nearly as much information that Rufus cared to examine. His logic was to rule by fear, with it he’ll need the military of course. Though he’d never fall in line in how his father respected them— constantly using that manpower to clean up ShinRa’s blunders or have them sent out to diminish a threat. If a dictator relied on one thing and one thing alone— there would be cracks in the system. Everything had to be well nourished, like a garden that slowly snaked weeds among the fruitful plants. A green thumb must go through and expel the excess; the plants that soaked in the sun and allowed others to a slow death in their shadows.
The experimentations that the company held did not interest him. Mako was the only substance that had any real worth, even the Jenova cells weren’t anything of value in his book. Although he needed men to line the streets, truthfully all he needed was the media and the propaganda that came with it. Feed the citizen false reports and they’ll cave to fear.
The existence of Aurora never came to his desk nor was her disappearance anything of a threat to him. What he was more focused on was his campaign, how to align the populace into believing he was the rightful leader of the ShinRa company. For too long he had to undermine everything his father had said— even a failed assassination at one point was a huge setback. He was ordered to house arrest, only seeing the world beyond the panel walls of Junon and the computer screens that etched the outside world on cameras.
At last, now he was seated in the executive room with the Midgar city stretched out on all sides of him. He had accomplished getting to this position, now what was left was the real work. Fingers wrapped about the handle of his worn briefcase, a bit of an ironic tale to it. A ‘coming of age’ gift that he had never gotten rid of. There was a sentimental value to it but he wasn’t sure why it mattered to him so much when the thought of his father being six feet under caused gooseflesh to pepper his skin. There were many orders to be made come morning— a parade in the making along the streets of Junon. Something he had thought about ever since he was forced those years of house arrest. That ‘long business trip’ was nothing more than tutors and four walls. Prepped with the knowledge on how to successfully run the company, he was eager to be released out the gate.
The rat race was over for progress production. Mako was the way of the world, the company was worth billions and he was nestled very securely at the top. Even the night felt electric as he stepped out of the building to the sleek black vehicle that awaited him. His first night sleeping his bedchamber as President, he knew that the splashing of the mako reactors would lull him to sleep at some point; he was far too elated to properly close his eyes.
Tomorrow he’d go to Junon.
Tomorrow he’d make it clear who was in charge.
Tomorrow was too far away for him.
Tomorrow would be a new era.
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