EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

Four Years Later

Shinra Headquarters: Department of General Affairs

"Yes, Mr President, I understand…"

Closing the mouthpiece of his personal terminal over, Tseng let out a lasting sigh. A strange sensation had enveloped him, weighing him down like a sponge in water. Though a distant hope had always foreseen the rise of such a scenario, President Shinra's news was unexpected, and unwelcome. His mind was numb and without thought, leaving him as stiff and upright in his chair as when he had first received the phone call. Only at the faint sound of his office door opening across the soft carpet did Tseng stir.

"I brought you some coffee, sir," said the secretary, carefully placing a steaming mug at the edge of the mahogany desk.

"Thank you," he mumbled, straining a grateful smile.

Through tired eyes, he watched her leave, then turned his attention to the mound of paperwork. In the dim light of the room, he forced himself to read Director Heidegger's report on the recent developments in the Department of Public Safety Maintenance, an amalgamation of the former SOLDIER and Security Divisions, skimming the pages without enthusiasm.

Squad rotation and redistribution; the continual decrease of First Class involvement in priority missions; decommissioned models of wartime Gelnikas...this is all bullshit.

Tseng's retinas fogged with the blank image of nothingness; all was but an illusion around him. As he signed the last sheet of the document, he yawned, and reached for the coffee. The scalding porcelain burned through his hand as he lifted the cup from the desk, the seething pain awakening him abruptly, causing him to let go. With a dull clink, the mug landed hard on the surface, splashing his drink across the report.

"Godsdammit!" he cursed, springing from his seat and quickly mopping the spill with the sleeve of his black suit.

He swore again, wringing his arm as droplets of the hot brew fell into the wastebasket, then draped the jacket over the chair. The sharp return to reality had startled him, and the memory of the President's orders swiftly found their way back to the forefront of his mind.

What the hell's wrong with me? Am I just exhausted? Or is it the situation…?

Tseng glanced towards the far wall of the office, his gaze settling on a shadowy bookcase. With an air of hesitance, he paced the floor to the shelves, and trailed a finger over the myriad hardback spines of Veld's old journals. Even in the three years the Chief had been missing – and against Heidegger's repeated insistence – Tseng had felt uneasy about removing any of the files. Convincing himself instead that the collection would one day be useful, he had simply added his own reports to the library.

Now, as his finger came to rest upon a worn scarlet tome, bound in a leather strap, he knew at once it was the memoire he sought. He had on countless occasions desired to open its dusty pages, yet each time he gathered the mental strength to fight the urge. Cradling the book in his palms, he carried it across the chamber and set it gently on the desk. Its smooth cover glowered at him formidably, void of decoration but for a single word, handwritten in gold ink:

NIBELHEIM

A wave of heavy fluttering reverberated from beyond the trio of windows behind him, and the office was momentarily bathed in white radiance as the B1A helicopter passed. Cautiously picking up his coffee, Tseng wandered over to the panelled glass, observing the craft as it vanished into the darkened skies above the slumbering city. Beneath him, the Sector7 suburbs were silent, without as much as a flicker of lamplight visible from the height of Shinra Headquarters.

Sipping the drink and appreciating its stimulating warmth, he gathered the will to alert the Turks to their next assignment. He stared towards the horizon, the silhouette of the Midgar Mountains jagged against the overcast heavens, and thought of his new targets.

Because of what happened four years ago, I feel responsible for their imprisonment at the hands of Hojo. If only I had been stronger…that was my mistake. Had it not been for the events at Nibelheim, their fate would not have become so twisted. He was my friend. I'm so sorry…Zack…

Tseng lowered his head, the swell of guilt he had borne for so long erupting inside him. Biting his lip to cease its trembling, he slammed his fist on the window frame, the panes shuddering loudly under the impact. He peered back at the journal, its thick pages beckoning him. Exhaling deeply, he returned to the desk, and slumped into his chair. Placing the mug opposite himself, he slowly drew the book nearer, and pulled open its cover.

The initial entries were images Veld had cut from magazines and newspapers, laid out in order to form a makeshift visual map of the village. Tseng's heart sank as he studied the pictures, reminiscing on his first visit to Nibelheim. He could see Gramps' Inn and the accessories store at the edge of the square, overlooking the lone water tower at its centre. At the base of the pages, smaller photographs of various denizens had been lined, the cheerful faces of men, women and children alike frozen in time.

The Chief's homage to the dead…

Skipping to the middle of the volume, he was met by the grim portrayal of a charred and crumbling town. Copies of the snapshots taken for Shinra, Inc.'s secret collection were pasted from corner to corner, the sight of ash-laden streets and burned bodies as horrific to review now as it had been then. Tseng closed his eyes for the briefest of moments; the Company had so easily dismissed the atrocity, remorseless as they rebuilt Nibelheim, populating it with employees willing to ignore the past.

And the Chief played his part so we didn't have to…

With a hasty touch, he flicked through the next few pages, suddenly stopping as he reached a photograph more disturbing than any that had come before. Sephiroth's leering smile rose from the picture like a wraith, sending a chill down Tseng's spine. The profile was incredibly formal, simply listing the honours Sephiroth had achieved in his eleven years as a SOLDIER, the most notable of which being his promotion to the rank of captain while still in his late teens.

Now they meant nothing; the unrivalled respect he had demanded as a legend of the Wutai War was eradicated by the crimson ink of three stamped words: KILLED IN ACTION.

And to think we called him a hero…

"What the hell?" Tseng spluttered, jumping as his personal terminal vibrated noisily on the desk. He answered it at once.

"Sir?" came Rude's crackling voice.

"Go ahead, I'm listening…"

"Sir, are the reports true?" asked the senior Turk, his tone as calm and composed as ever. "Are we required to intercept the fugitives?"

"I have direct orders from the President," Tseng replied solemnly. "The Army are in pursuit as we speak. However, for now, I want you and your team to proceed as planned. Where's Reno?"

"Junon, sir," Rude informed him. "Tying up some loose ends."

"Who do we have nearest the Nibel region?"

"Cissnei, I think."

He snorted sardonically. "Figures…alright, put me through to her."

"Hello?" Cissnei responded after several seconds, the signal wavering as she spoke.

"Cissnei, it's Tseng. Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear."

"I have a new assignment for you."

"Fire away, Chief."

"Seventy-two hours ago," he briefed her, "a pair of research samples escaped from Professor Hojo's laboratory beneath Shinra Manor. Your mission is to locate the targets and stop them from leaving the area at all costs. They are top priority."

"You can rely on me," Cissnei answered. "As always."

"This may come as a difficult task for you in particular."

"It doesn't matter. I'll be prepared for anything."

"The samples are two adult males. One of them is a combat expert, an ex-SOLDIER First Class."

"You don't mean…?"

"Cissnei…" he sighed, "your targets are Zack and the young private who was with him during the Nibelheim incident. I'm sure you'll remember the former all too well."

"But…I…"

"The targets have been spotted in Nibel Forest south of the town," Tseng continued, quashing any challenge she wished to present. "You are to be dropped off by helicopter to scour the location more thoroughly. Be careful, though. Heidegger has mobilised his forces to conduct his own search…presumably to justify his overspending. It would be in your interest to avoid the Army. And, Cissnei?"

A tense silence hung between them before she finally acknowledged his instructions. "Yes?"

"If you do make contact first, try your best to capture the fugitives alive. I'm aware you've been visiting Zack's parents. You can't let your relationship with them get in the way of your objective."

"Does that mean you don't intend on delivering Aerith's eighty-something letters to him, sir?"

"Aerith is still a person of interest to the Company. There's a security factor to consider."

"It's just…" Cissnei gulped, faltering, "I can't believe we're going to take their freedom away a second time. What a cruel fate."

"Ever since you were recruited, you knew it was going to be like this," Tseng reminded her, as much to reaffirm their organisation's creed to himself as anything. It was all too often that impossible choices were expected of them. "I'm sorry, but it is our curse. No matter what our mission may be, no matter the consequences or our personal feelings, we will always carry it out without question. That is the duty of the Turks…"

…but the least we can do is give them a head start.

214