Chapter Text
Shinra Headquarters felt different that morning.
Reno noticed it almost immediately, though at first he couldn’t have said what exactly was wrong. Nothing obvious had changed. The lobby still gleamed with polished steel and glass, the security checkpoints were still in place, and the endless stream of employees still moved through the building with the same mechanical efficiency they always did. And yet something in the atmosphere felt subtly off, as though the entire building had drawn in a collective breath and was holding it.
There were more infantry units than usual stationed in the main corridors. Conversations were shorter, quieter. Even the office workers seemed less inclined to linger around coffee machines or exchange idle gossip. Everyone moved with purpose, with tension sitting just beneath the surface.
Reno slipped his hands into his pockets as he crossed the lobby, his expression carefully relaxed despite the unease prickling at the back of his neck. If something big was happening, he would find out soon enough.
He turned the corner toward the elevators and slowed.
Rude was standing there waiting.
That alone was unusual enough to make Reno’s stomach tighten.
Rude was not someone who waited around without reason. If he was here, standing with arms crossed and posture even more rigid than usual, something was definitely going on.
Reno raised an eyebrow.
“Aw, don’t tell me you missed me already.”
Rude didn’t react.
“Tseng’s already in the meeting.”
“With who?”
“Heidegger. We‘re supposed to join.”
For the briefest moment, Reno’s casual expression slipped. Then he exhaled through his nose and rolled his shoulders.
“Well,” he muttered as he stepped beside Rude, “that ain’t ominous at all.”
Neither of them said much else as they made their way to the conference room. They didn’t need to. The raised voice echoing through the corridor told Reno everything he needed to know before they even reached the door.
“… And I said no! The mission parameters are final.”
Reno slowed on instinct. Beside him, Rude did the same. Neither of them went in.
Heidegger, naturally. Furious in that particular way Reno had long since learned to recognize. Someone had challenged him, and he hated that more than almost anything.
Tseng's reply came back quiet.
"Send another unit."
Reno’s eyes narrowed.
There was a beat of silence before Heidegger exploded again.
“The Turks were assigned to this mission for a reason!”
Mission?
Reno exchanged a brief glance with Rude.
Tseng’s voice remained level.
“Send Rude and Elena.”
The words hit Reno harder than he expected, because apparently he wanted one specific person removed from the assignment. Reno had a feeling he knew who it was.
Heidegger slammed a hand onto what sounded like a desk.
“No. Elena is still inexperienced. This operation leaves no room for mistakes, and timing is critical.”
Reno kept his face neutral, but inside, unease sharpened into something heavier.
Tseng fell silent.
That silence lasted only a few seconds, but Reno knew Tseng well enough to know what went unspoken. Tseng rarely wasted effort once he understood the limits of a situation. He pushed when resistance served a purpose. He stopped when pushing further would only draw unwanted attention. Which meant Tseng had already realized something. He couldn’t change this.
A moment later, Tseng spoke.
“Understood.”
The word was neutral, almost emotionless, but Reno caught the tension buried underneath it. Tseng had not agreed. He had simply accepted what he could not alter.
Then Tseng’s voice came again.
“You can come in.”
Reno’s mouth twitched. Tseng new. He always did. Reno pushed open the door and entered with practiced ease.
“Mornin’. Sounds lively in here.”
Heidegger glared at him but said nothing.
Tseng sat at the head of the table, unreadable except for the faint tension in his shoulders — the kind only someone who'd worked beside him for years would catch. Reno did.
Rude came to stand at his side, and the briefing started without preamble.
"AVALANCHE activity in Sector Seven has escalated," Heidegger announced. "The terrorist cell has become increasingly aggressive. President Shinra has authorized decisive action to neutralize the threat."
Reno's jaw tightened slightly. Decisive action. Corporate for something with blood in it.
“Doesn’t sound like we’re just arrestin’ them.”
“No.” Heidegger didn’t even look at him. “We are eliminating the threat. The Sector Seven support pillar will be released."
For a second, Reno thought he'd misheard.
“… Come again?"
Heidegger didn't repeat himself.
Reno suddenly gave a short disbelieving laugh.
“…You’re kiddin’.”
“No.”
Heidegger kept talking — sacrifice, strategic necessity, containment, the importance of removing a threat before it metastasized — like he was reading off a shipping manifest.
“The collapse will eradicate the terrorist base while demonstrating Shinra’s resolve. Civilian losses are regrettable but strategically acceptable.”
Reno heard every word. None of it landed right.
Thousands of people lived beneath that plate. Families. Workers. Kids who’d never thrown a punch, let alone held a weapon.
Collateral damage.
His mind betrayed him with details. The old woman who always complained about his cigarettes outside the bar. The man who nodded to him at the train station every few nights, complaining about the trains arriving late. The little kid he’d dragged out of a collapsed warehouse after the floor had given way.
They weren’t names. Just people. In a few hours, they would all be gone.
Reno took an involuntary step forward.
“No.” His own voice surprised him. “Sector Seven ain’t just Avalanche.”
Heidegger regarded him with open irritation before his voice turned noticeably colder.
“Are you questioning operational necessity? The Turks are not employed to question policy.”
Before Reno could answer, Tseng spoke.
“No, he doesn’t.”
His tone remained calm, but it left no room for argument. Reno glanced at him. Tseng never looked his way.
“The Turks will initiate the plate separation and ensure the operation proceeds without interruption.”
Heidegger’s gaze lingered on Reno for another moment before he gave a curt nod.
“As always, failure is not an option.”
He let silence hang for a moment, giving each of them a look that dared anyone to challenge him again. Then he turned and strode from the room. The door slid shut behind him with a muted hiss.
For another moment, nobody spoke.
Reno stared at the closed door, still trying to reconcile the words he’d just heard with the city he knew.
Release the plate.
The words refused to fit inside his head. Thousands of people. Gone in seconds. Just like that.
His jaw tightened. And then another realization hit him.
Seventh Heaven was there.
Strife.
The thought landed so suddenly it almost stole his breath.
Of course he’d be there.
Somehow that realization settled even heavier than the mission itself.
Reno hated that. Hated what it implied. He exhaled slowly and pushed away from the table. Beside him, Rude did the same. Without a word, the two of them turned toward the door.
“Reno. Stay.”
Tseng’s voice stopped him before he’d taken more than two steps.
Reno paused and glanced at Rude, giving him an easy shrug that he hoped looked more convincing than it felt.
“Guess I’m in trouble.”
Rude studied him for a brief moment, then gave a single nod and left the room.
Now it was just the two of them.
Tseng rose from his chair.
That immediately put Reno on edge.
When they were in Tseng‘s office, he usually remained behind his desk when he wanted distance, when he wanted authority. Standing made the conversation feel personal in a way Reno didn’t particularly appreciate.
He forced a crooked grin.
“So. What’d I do this time?”
Tseng ignored the attempt at humor.
“I think this mission is a test.”
Straight to the point.
No softening.
Reno blinked, then leaned back against the table and folded his arms.
“Well, that’s cheerful.”
“I’m serious.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
Tseng held his gaze.
“Someone wants you on this mission at all costs,” Tseng said.
There it was. The thing Reno had already felt but refused to fully acknowledge. He shrugged the uneasy feeling away.
„You mean Heidegger wanted me on this mission, cause I‘m good?“
„Reno.“
“What? I am good.”
“I need to know you understand what that means.”
Reno’s smile thinned. Of course he understood.
If he hesitated, someone would notice.
If he questioned orders again, someone would notice.
If he looked compromised—
Someone would notice.
He exhaled slowly.
“Ain’t that every day at Shinra?” he said. „Bein‘ watched.“
“Not like this.”
„… Meanin‘?“
Tseng’s voice remained calm, but the weight behind it sharpened.
“You will be watched very closely.”
The words landed harder than Reno expected.
Because Tseng never dramatized, never exaggerated. If he said it, he meant it.
Reno looked away first. Reflexively, he reached for the only defense that had ever reliably worked.
“Relax," he said, easy, careless. "I'm still pretty."
Tseng didn’t smile.
“This isn’t a joke.”
For a brief second, Reno’s mask slipped. His voice came quieter.
“You think I’m gonna fail?”
Tseng was silent long enough to make Reno regret asking.
Then he answered.
“I think someone expects you to.”
That was worse. Reno swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat. Tseng seemed to recognize that pressing further would only make Reno retreat behind sarcasm again. He stepped back slightly.
“Be careful.”
Simple words.
No lecture.
No order behind them. And because of that, they hit harder than anything else Tseng had said.
Reno forced his grin back into place.
“When have I ever been anythin’ else?”
„When you start pretending you are not afraid.”
For the first time that morning, Reno had no comeback.
He left before the silence could become unbearable.
Rude was still waiting outside.
One look at Reno’s face was enough for him to know the conversation hadn’t gone too well, but before either of them could speak, the elevator at the end of the corridor chimed.
The doors slid open and Scarlet stepped out. Two members of Public Security followed a respectful pace behind her, but she barely acknowledged them. Instead, her attention drifted lazily down the corridor until it settled on Reno and Rude.
She smiled. Reno’s own smile returned automatically.
“Mornin‘, Director.”
Scarlet approached with the effortless confidence of someone who never doubted people would move aside for her. She stopped only briefly, her eyes flicking between Reno and Rude.
“So,” she said lightly, “you’re the ones handling Sector Seven.”
Reno lifted one shoulder.
“Looks that way.”
Scarlet tilted her head ever so slightly, studying them with detached curiosity.
“Do try not to disappoint anyone.”
Reno laughed.
“No pressure, huh?”
“None at all.”
Her smile widened just enough to become unreadable.
“I’m sure you’ll do exactly what’s expected of you.”
For a moment, neither Reno nor Rude answered.
Then Scarlet inclined her head politely and stepped past them.
“I’m looking forward to reading the report.”
Reno watched them disappear around a corner.
“…Weird.”
Rude didn’t disagree.
They also continued their way without speaking. Reno could feel the question hanging between them long before Rude finally voiced it.
“What did Tseng want?”
Reno kept his gaze forward.
“The usual.”
Rude glanced at him.
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
Reno’s mouth twitched.
“Good thing I wasn’t tryin’ to.”
Rude looked as though he intended to continue, but Reno cut him off before he could, because he didn’t want to talk about Tseng.
Didn’t want to talk about being watched. Didn’t want to talk about the growing pressure in his chest. Instead, the question slipped out before he could stop it.
“Are they really serious?”
Rude looked at him.
Reno’s voice dropped.
“About the plate.”
Rude’s expression didn’t change.
“Yes.”
Just one word. Steady, final.
Reno stopped walking. The corridor suddenly felt too narrow, the air too thin.
“They really want us to do it.”
It wasn’t a question. It was disbelief given voice.
Rude answered with the certainty of doctrine, reciting the line as though repetition could turn brutality into reason.
“Threats to public order are to be summarily put down.”
The words hung between them.
Cold. Polished. Corporate.
Reno stared ahead.
Then a short laugh escaped him, hollow and humorless.
“Yeah.”
Silence stretched.
When he spoke again, his voice was quieter than before, stripped of almost everything that usually protected him.
“Funny.”
Reno swallowed. His chest felt painfully tight.
“Why does that sound so different today?”
Rude said nothing.
And somehow, that silence said everything.