Paper Tiger Burning

I respectfully credit all Original Creators, namely Squaresoft, which became SquareEnix,for these characters. In this way, I pay homage to my Fandom's Original Creator, and illustrate my Community's belief that Fan Fiction is "fair use". I do not claim to own these characters. I do not make money or gil from using these protected characters, nor do I wish to make money or gil from them. In other words, I am borrowing these characters to entertain the adult fanfiction community, but I am doing so with the highest degree of respect to the engineers, game designers, music makers, and voice actors.




Monday morning came. I left the flower girl in my apartment with a reminder that she shouldn’t make noise for the microphones to pick up. I’d slept on the couch while she slept in my bed. Technically I couldn’t share it with her; I no longer had the immediate threat of a militant break in. Strangely, when I’d offered to change the sheets for her she avoided answering, distracting me with a question about the fountains.

Now, sitting in my office, aware of the microphones even here, I felt flash-paper thin. One stray spark would ignite me. I hated being spied upon, being watched covertly. Let my observers come out and watch me in person. I felt accustomed to that sort of scrutiny.

My routine seemed twice as colorless without a view of the flower girl.

“”Mr. Shinra is on his way to see you, sir,” Eldon’s voice came through on my intercom. “You have less than a minute.”

I liked Eldon. He didn’t know I’d put in for a pay raise on his behalf. It had been a small gamble to let him see the flower girl in my apartment, but he hadn’t said a word to me about it. I knew he’d not spoken to others, either. Tactical practicality demanded I reward him.

I heard the owner of Shin-Ra coming through my outer doors and Eldon’s chair move back. “Mr. Shinra,” he said respectfully. “The General is in his office.”

“Thank you,” Rufus tossed out. My door opened without a knock and he strode inside. Knowing it would irritate and throw him off balance, I remained seated. Rufus might not be his odious father, but he wasn’t far from it. I still hadn’t forgiven him for playing games with my remnants. Still, I couldn’t show any outward contempt; for now I needed to be here, seeming to quietly reform.

Or conform.

“Sephiroth,” he said, strutting around my desk.

“Rufus,” I acknowledged. I took comfort in the fact that he needed me almost as much as I needed him. I waved toward a bottle of orange liquor on my sideboard. “Try the liquor from Costa del Sol,” I invited. Rufus had large appetites and this fulfilled the one for strong drink.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Rufus drawled, pulling his lips back to show all of his perfect, white teeth. He poured a tall glass and took a healthy drink. “Good,” he commented. “You can afford this on what I pay you?’

My salary fell far short of being adequate. Rufus supplemented it by furnishing the apartment I lived in.

“A gift,” I said. I didn’t even drink alcohol. “G7 squad purchased it for me.”

Rufus shot me a sly look. “You always were well liked by the men,” he mused. “I never understood that. You’re as cold as the pole and almost as talkative.”

“Soldiers are special men,” I murmured. “They must always know their leader as strong but approachable. A poor leader is soon without men.”

“And that’s what I like about you, Sephiroth,” Rufus said, sitting in a chair with his half empty drink in his right hand. “You know how to control people. Even if you weren’t a raging psychopath you’d have this control over others; you’re charismatic and forceful.”

“War is a study.” I leaned back in my chair, putting my fingers together in a steeple. I refused to rise to the bait of “punch and praise”.

“So are people.” Rufus ran a hand through his blond hair. “Professor Hojo thinks so, anyway.”

Ah, here was the meat of the matter. This social call revolved around the missing flower girl.

“Professor Hojo thinks many things, not all of them sound,” I replied.

A beat of silence. Rufus took another large sip of the liquor. “He thinks you made off with a specimen,” he said.

“Elite sweepers have already found the reality,” I answered evenly.

“I’ve been informed,” Rufus replied. “Isn’t she the one you killed many years ago?”

“Hojo implied I’d taken his pet Cetra,” I responded. “I have heard she was the last of her kind.”

“Yes, very valuable,” Rufus said. “But is she the one?”

“I assume Hojo could have brought her back from the dead, since that is exactly what he did to me. If it is the Cetra who traveled with AVALANCE, then yes, I did kill her.”

Rufus nodded. “Perhaps AVALANCHE discovered her presence and freed her, then?”

“How would they have known? Security is tight.” I leaned back even further, looking up at the ceiling. “Hojo sometimes has difficulty keeping his subjects locked away. When one augments a creature to be stronger, the holding facility is automatically weaker.”

“The glass was broken from the inside,” Rufus said, “which gives support to that idea.” He finished his drink and got up to pour another. “We want her back. She is valuable. I haven’t given up my father’s hope that she can lead us to the Promised Land.”

“What good is she, really?” I posed. “She probably would not be gained as an ally, seeing as how her friends are part of a famous resistance group. And you’d never get her willing cooperation. As far as I know, the Promised Land is only for the dead anyway; I’ve researched the Ancients.” I looked at him closely. “What did he really want the Cetra for?”

“Hojo wanted to breed her,” Rufus replied, admitting to something I’d already considered. “He was only waiting for her to get strong enough.” He shot me a look under his eyelashes. “I believe he intended to breed her with you.”

“I would not have volunteered for such a duty,” I warned him. Now, I wouldn’t have any issue with doing it in private, with her consent. I’d find that task far from onerous.

“Apparently not, since you won’t even scratch Sheila’s itch.” Rufus eyed me closely. “And why is that? Are you homosexual?”

Well, at least the topic had turned a little.

Making a show of moving carefully, I picked up a heavy, cast iron paperweight I’d inherited with the office. Holding it up to show him, I squeezed until my hand molded into the metal. When I dropped it back on my desk it looked nothing like a paperweight. “Can you imagine a person of my strength losing control on flesh?” I asked him. “Your sister is well aware of my abilities, yet she insists. I am not willing to kill her just to scratch her itch for cock.” I wasn’t willing to scratch her itch for any reason, really.

Rufus stared at the paperweight. “I see your point,” he murmured. “She is still intent, however. You will have to find a way to dissuade her.” He tossed down his second glass of liquor. “Well, that was all I had to say.”

He walked out without a farewell of any kind, not that I had expected one. I’d satisfied him on my innocence over the flower girl’s loss and made my stance clear on his sister in a way he couldn’t refute. He hadn’t really believed me accountable over the Cetra anyway or he’d have visited me accompanied by a team of Turks, perhaps even the whole team.

Much good it would do him; Turks wouldn’t be any better at controlling me.