Chapter Text
Some would say it started with ShinRa's greed, others with ShinRa's pride or even with ShinRa's army of troops and SOLDIERs.
The truth of it boiled down to a measure of all three.
ShinRa was about to start an era unlike any other in the history of the world and somehow, someway, manage to come out on top smelling of roses.
The problem with roses, of course, are the unavoidable fact that they have thorns.
Sephiroth snuck through the hallways of ShinRa's 45th floor, headquarters to the Department of Administrative Research—known to the rest of ShinRa simply as the Turks.
Turks were notoriously possessive of everything they oversaw.
Sephiroth, as a SOLDIER Third Class, was technically permitted to be there. He had an understanding with the Director here unlike any other SOLDIER.
Light footsteps caused him to hide in the rafters, his boot impressions faded into the carpet before the newest recruit walked over them. The recruit was stopped as Tseng, Veld's protégée, spotted the depressions.
"Someone was here," came the careful drawl.
"Huh?" At the louder voice, Sephiroth moved down the hallway on the beams, swaying to balance as Tseng spoke again.
"You're stepping where they were," was the decisive answer. "Look closer."
"Ohhh. How'd ya spot it, yo?" Slum slang in ShinRa? That was new. Sector Seven, by the sound of it, born and raised.
"They were quiet but those aren't Turk-issued prints. Likely a trooper or a SOLDIER here infiltrating on a dare. Look up." Sephiroth knew he blended in with the dark ceiling but closed his eyes as to not be spotted. "Hmm. Keep an ear out for non-familiar voices or boots."
"Can do yo!" As their footsteps faded, Sephiroth barely cracked open his left eye to spot them leaving before he closed it again.
He waited patiently, breath so shallow that he heard the throwing knife hit the beam where he'd been not a moment prior.
"Paranoia, I suppose, but better safe than sorry." Tseng sighed, tugging the knife out of the wood with an attatched string.
"You're crazy." The recruit muttered.
"It's at moments like this where your enemy could strike. Pay attention before you're dead." Tseng chided like an exasperated older brother.
Sephiroth thought about it and grinned.
He dropped down, gave a cheeky whistle and darted down the hallway, laughing as Tseng let loose a Wutainese curseword in surprise.
Nicky would disapprove of that one for sure but it was fun to startle new ones out of the Turk.
"Whoa! What was that?"
"ShinRa's most powerful SOLDIER. He's faster and stronger than the rest. He's also a child. I will report you, Strife!" Tseng yelled after him.
"Have to catch me first and give the report to Director Veld!" He fired back as he skidded to a halt outside of the locked room. "Should be in-There!"
The card reader meeped and let him into the room.
Sephiroth slowly walked up to the mounted pan with the indent roughly the size of a human skull as he looked at it. He reached for the pan as if to brush the material, his open hand curling into a fist as he thought about the last person it had touched. Sephiroth heaved in a breath to calm himself as he thought about all the good that pan had done by being in the hands of his Mom.
He dug around for his PHS and took a picture to show Ms. Ifalna later when he brought Cloud to play with Aerith.