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[Fic] Power Play (Final Fantasy VII) - ShinRa Ink [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Celebrating the real heroes of Final Fantasy VII

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[Fic] Power Play (Final Fantasy VII) [Mar. 27th, 2006|10:32 pm]
Celebrating the real heroes of Final Fantasy VII

shinra_ink

[xandrabelle]
[Current Mood |creative]

Oh wow, I actually have fic to contribute to his comm.

Title: Power Play
Characters: Tseng, Rufus
Rating: PG
Summary: Tseng finds out something incriminating about Rufus ShinRa and blackmails him into doing what he wants him to do. Set just before the game. Warning for a spoiler about Rufus' role in Before Crisis.


Tseng parted the curtains of the hotel room by a sliver and watched with silent fascination at the figure entering the building. From his vantage, there was little to distinguish the man from any other passerby at the sector 4 inn; nondescript dark clothes and a hat shading all glimpse of his face, only a flash of golden hair sweeping across a pale brow alerting him that his guest had arrived.

He let the heavy fabric fall back and moved into position, just off to the side of the door, half hidden in the shadows, away from the warm circle of light radiating from the bedside lamp. His posture was relaxed, though everything about Tseng screamed predator and danger to those who knew what to look for.

A cautious rap on the door and he reached to pull it open. The wide-eyed look of shock on his visitor’s face on seeing him was every bit as satisfying as he’d hoped. Good, he had the element of surprise.

“Please come in, Vice-President Rufus,” he said politely though he didn’t give him an opportunity to refuse, reaching out to grip a slim arm and yanking him in firmly. He quickly flipped the lock on the moment the door shut.

It was to Rufus ShinRa’s credit that he only allowed a flash of consternation to flicker across his expression before he recovered his composure.

“There must be some mistake, Tseng. I received a message,” he began, eyeing the locked door uneasily. “What is the meaning of this?”

Tseng waved an inviting hand at a seat, placing himself between the door and Rufus to ensure his quarry wouldn’t flee. However, Rufus didn’t appear a flight risk, a curious glint had settled in his eyes. Tseng guessed he was interested enough in finding out more about what was going on.

The young ShinRa nodded and elegantly settled into the offered seat, giving Tseng every impression of forgiving condescension. “Well?” he demanded, tapping his finger on the armrest as if impatient for an answer. It was a nervous habit though only someone who knew him well would have known it. Tseng, unfortunately, was among their number. He was more familiar with Rufus than the beautiful youth could have ever suspected.

Tseng decided that a more graphic display would answer Rufus better than any words could. He strode over to the closet and slid open the door. A man hung within, swaying slowly like a side of beef, a steady dribble of blood from the wound at his chest falling to the floor and soaking into a jacket that Tseng had thoughtfully removed from his fresh kill to contain the mess.

Rufus took a sharp intake of breath at the grisly vision. “Who is that?” he demanded. Dead bodies were not alien to his world, but the sight of this particular carcass coupled with the understated menace from the Chief of the Turks looming before him and Rufus was doing his best not to break into a sweat.

Tseng’s eyes were fixed with an intensity upon Rufus. “I’d think you’d know, Vice-President. Given that that is the middleman who you’ve been using to fund the group of terrorists trying to kill your father,” Tseng said in a mild tone that belied the seriousness of the charge.

Shocked into silence, Rufus began to think of his options. He was intelligent enough to dismiss an attempt at denial. He wasn’t above telling bald-faced lies but Tseng was a Turk and Rufus was more than aware of how they worked. That he’d killed the Avalanche middleman and lured Rufus here meant that the secret was out. There would be no trial nor any attempt to negotiate. Bribery was also out. Admission seemed pointless but it might delay his execution. Rufus briefly wondered if Tseng would grant him a quick death or if he was going to be delivered to Hojo for his amusement.

“So you know. Does my father as well? Did he order you to execute me?” he said with only the barest hint of distress in his voice.

Tseng watched the youth with a growing admiration that he hid beneath his stoic exterior. He read no fear in Rufus, only a hint of regret, possibly anger at having been caught so near his goal. He let him stew for just a brief moment more, enjoying the sight of those blue eyes dark with suppressed frustration.

“No, the President does not know. Yet.” The warning was unmistakable.

But perhaps negotiation was possible.

Tseng almost smiled to see Rufus perk up, the gears in his brain obviously grinding at top speed as he processed this bit of information.

“What do you want, Tseng?” Rufus asked smoothly. The cards were all in the Turk’s hands but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t find a way out of this yet.

Now Tseng allowed himself to smile and advance upon Rufus slowly, a stalking cat with prey securely between its paws.

“First, you’ll stop all your activities plotting against your father. The people you’re dealing with hate ShinRa. You, are ShinRa. These things come back and bite you when you don’t want them to,” he began. He watched Rufus visibly relax, aware now that Tseng wasn’t going to kill him. He knew what Rufus was probably thinking-- Tseng was a loyal Turk.

“Then I want you to do what I tell you to. Everything,” he stressed. Rufus’ eyes narrowed as he realized the tight leash Tseng meant to keep him on.

Quick as a flash he was upon Rufus, the sudden momentum pushing the slightly smaller body backwards, toppling him from the chair as both grappled at the shotgun that had slid out from Rufus’ side. Tseng was served by his superior strength and experience and with a cruel twist of his wrist, Rufus cried out and released his weapon. He fell back, panting from the exertion and glaring at Tseng.

Tossing the weapon aside, Tseng grabbed the young ShinRa heir by the collar and hauled him over to the bed, flinging him onto it before climbing onto and pinning him down with grim determination. “Get this through your head, you’re not going to be able to get rid of me that easily. And if anything happens to me, the evidence goes directly to your father,” he gritted out in a low growl, shaking Rufus hard enough to rattle his teeth.

The fight went out of Rufus quickly. He knew when to cave. “All right, you win,” he said and went limp in Tseng’s grip.

Tseng gave him another hard look and held him down tightly for a full minute as if to ensure he wasn’t going to fight again, their bodies flush against each other. Seeming satisfied at having made his point, he got off him.

“Stay there,” he said and moved towards the small table by a corner. Taking the small case on it, he returned to Rufus on the bed.

“What’s that?” Rufus asked, a little breathlessly, with some nervous trepidation at the sight of the ominous container.

“Shut up and stay still,” Tseng said and opened the holder. He noted with satisfaction that Rufus actually obeyed his order.

Rufus watched with a growing uneasiness as Tseng removed a steel gun-like piece of equipment and a bottle. The leader of the Turks poured a bit of liquid upon some cotton wool and swabbed thoroughly at Rufus’ ear. Rufus tensed as Tseng placed the gun to his earlobe and pressed. The sharp sting forced a gasp from his lips.

“What’s this for?” he growled, disobeying Tseng’s order to keep quiet. His hand moved up to worry at the slight weight now attached to the flesh.

Tseng slapped the hand away and swabbed it once more with the alcohol, not caring that it probably stung at the wound.

“You’re not to take that off,” he said as he repacked his instruments.

“You put a tracker on me!” Rufus yelled in outrage when he realized just what Tseng had done.

“Yes,” Tseng replied, with infuriating calm. “You may go home now. I trust you can find your way back. I’ll need to clean up here.”

Rufus clambered to his feet, his composure thoroughly shaken. He looked like he was about to say something before he gave up and fled from Tseng.

Tseng’s eyes followed the retreating back as Rufus made his escape through the milling crowds in the evening dusk. As he turned to finish the clean up, he murmured, “I’ll protect you, Rufus. Even from yourself.”

~~~Fin

Notes: If I recall, the official art from the game has Rufus wearing an earring. I figured Tseng put it on him.
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Comments:
[User Picture]From: mirime_vy
2006-03-27 04:23 pm (UTC)
Interesting... Very interesting indeed. I love calm, professional Tseng and protective Tseng (“I’ll protect you, Rufus. Even from yourself.”) totally rocks....
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