Ahhh, I took really long with this crap chapter T_T Well, I hope it doesn't kill you, there's no blood in this one. Such an original title, eh? Bleh. Enjoy.
I hate making president Shinra look like a good guy...
EDIT: Rufus is really mature for a 4 year old. I dumbed down his vocabulary a lil bit =P I hope that's enough...
A New Beginning
"I want him to be your top priority until further notice. Now go to his room, and make sure he's in bed by eight." The president turned back to his work without another word.
"Yes, sir." The boy said, hiding his bitterness. He turned on his heel, headed for the door, pressed the button, and let himself out. He strode toward the elevator, and punched the down button. He broke his train of thought for a moment-why was there an Up button? He shook his head. Maybe it went to the roof, where a helipad was. The elevator reached the top, and he stepped inside, the doors sliding shut behind him as he turned around.
Yes, he was bitter. What did he expect, to be happy about his new assignment, his second mission in a day? Yes, he did. He had been hoping for something else exciting, like maybe a trip to Wutai, since there was so much trouble there anyway. But no, he was stuck with-he shuddered-babysitting.
The elevator reached the lower floor in no time, making the young Turk wonder why he had bothered. It would have taken half as long to run down the stairs. Then he remembered, he just hadn't wanted to. He wasn't particularly enthusiastic about babysitting a three-year-old. The kid probably didn't even know what the hell was going on, that his own mother was dead. He didn't know that Shinra and Wutai were about to initiate a long and bloody war over said death. And he didn't know how desperately the Turks had searched for the culprit, to avenge his mother. No, he was probably babbling away in his room, playing with his gratuitous amounts of toys and luxuries. He was clueless.
Maybe that was a good thing. Tseng had no intention of dealing with a screaming crybaby, calling for his mother until further notice. That's what the president had said, "until further notice." That meant he had to babysit the brat indefinitely, forever maybe. His entire career was now confined to the very building he had longed to leave for the last year, an outcome he hadn't even thought of. The thought almost made him retch in the elevator. Only one thing stopped him, and that was the thought of getting his own retch all over his new Turk uniform. The doors opened, and he stepped out, heading down the hall.
This was the living quarters for guests, apparently. The room on the left at the end of the hall was now inhabited by a small boy, and the new Turk's destination. Now that he'd thought about it, Tseng understood why the boy might be screaming and crying when he arrived. One, his mother had been killed right in front of him. That was the big one. Two, he was left alone at the end of an empty hallway. Tseng winced; he had to be ready for anything now. If only he'd taken a babysitting class of some kind... he hadn't planned on guarding anyone under the age of being potty-trained. He reached the door, bracing himself for whatever would hit him.
He stopped his arm halfway as he reached for the button, listening. There was... nothing. No screaming, whining, sobbing, or any indication that there was sentient life inside the room. Was it soundproof? No, not in the guest's quarters, surely. He listened harder-he heard it. There was a boy's voice on the other side, almost inaudible. What was he saying? Was he talking to himself? Tseng listened harder, pressing his ear against the door. The voice was muffled, but clear. Maybe the boy was close to the door?
No, it was sobbing. but only a little bit. He heard a voice after a moment. "Why... Daddy's being scary. And he said, mom..." He sobbed again.
Tseng's eyebrows furrowed. Did the boy know after all? He wasn't looking forward to this mission, not if it involved a crying three-year-old. But at the same time, he felt sorry for the little one. What had Shinra done to warrant an attack like this? There was a pause... Tseng thought maybe the boy had gone to sleep, or merely silenced himself somehow. He reached for the button again, and once again pulled his arm back.
"No... no more crying, Daddy said. No more." He sniffed. "M-Maybe... if I'm good, Daddy will turn back to normal..." He sniffed, this time the sound more muffled than before. He was wiping his eyes, with his sleeve, maybe? There were small footsteps as the boy ventured farther into the room from where he had been, next to the door. Tseng's speculations were confirmed when he heard the footsteps. Inside, a bed thumped, as if a small boy had fallen on top of it. Had he calmed down...? Tseng hadn't expected this. He had been waiting for a barrage of high-pitched, childlike noises on his senses. But instead, nothing. So far. He reached for the button a last time, and pressed.
The door didn't open. Tseng was confused-was the circuit broken? He looked at the button, and realized something. It was a light, and it was off. Did that mean the button wouldn't work? He thought of going back to inform the president when he heard the boy inside.
"Who is it?"
Tseng hesitated. He didn't want to admit to the child that he was stuck outside, but he supposed he'd rather deal with the wrath of a child than the president. "It's Tseng, of the Turks. I'm here to, uh, be your bodyguard." He hoped that satisfied the boy inside.
"Turks? Come in," came the reply.
Tseng winced. He felt his pride being wrenched from his body as he uttered the reply, "The door won't open, sir." He used "sir" just in case. He might as well get used to it, since the kid was the future Vice President.
"Oh, I forgot! Wait a sec..." A thump came as the boy jumped from the bed, and ran over to the door. Tseng wondered what he was doing, until he saw the light blink on. He pressed the button, and the door slid open.
The boy was standing in the doorway, ready to meet his new bodyguard. "It can only be opened from the inside. Veld told me not to move until a Turk came to get me, or something." He scratched the side of his head with a finger, and let his arm fall.
Tseng stood there, trying to think of something to say, or do. Did he enter right now, or would the boy admit him? Did the boy have authority over him, and therefore demand the utmost respect? And even then, what did this "bodyguard" job entail? For crying out loud, this was a three-year-old. What did he have to do, play House? What the hell did kids do in a rich family to entertain themselves? Hopefully this kid didn't have dolls...
"You can come in if you want," said the boy.
Tseng stood in the doorway, uncomfortably. What was he supposed to do? Was this an order, or did he really have a choice? Turks didn't move unless they were ordered to, and Tseng wasn't about to screw up on another mission today.
"H-Hello? Is anyone in there? Come on!"
That was a good enough order for him. The child turned to enter deeper into the room, headed towards his bed. Tseng followed, the door sliding shut behind him. The boy jumped back onto the bed, kicking his legs nervously and gripping his knees. Tseng stopped in front of the boy, unsure of what to do next. He was a babysitter, so was he an entertainer as well? He decided to simply do whatever this boy ordered him to do. He looked around, surveying his surroundings and assessing the situation. It was a good-sized room with a king-sized bed, fit for guests of the Shinra company. Why it was being used as a toddler's bedroom was beyond him. Though it must have been hard to accommodate the boy, considering there was no need for his own room at Shinra, since he had his own room at his own estate. There was a bathroom and dressing room off to the right, and a desk in front of the window at the back of the room. A small nightstand sat in the far left corner, next to the bed. The walls were painted a dark, maroon-red color, and the floor was a golden-yellow carpet. A framed picture of the Shinra insignia hung above the headboard, to complete the picture of powerful and wealthy hospitality.
Tseng saw that the curtains were drawn in front of the window-probably an act on Veld's part—to restrict any view into the room from outside. The situation looked secure; the boy would have said something if someone else was in the room, right? Nevertheless, the young Turk kept his guard up. He couldn't afford a failure on his first day of duty. Not only was this his first mission, but he held this young boy's life in his hands, protecting him from the same killers who got his mother.
Who was he kidding? Certainly not himself. He was a damn babysitter, what was he going to encounter, a diaper change? His life's aspirations had been thrown down the tubes when he accepted this mission. But did he really have a choice? If he had refused, he might have found himself looking for a new job, wasting the year he had spent in training. Then again, the sudden thought of changing diapers scared the Turk, and he banished the thought from his mind. He'd deal with it if it came.
"What's your name?"
Tseng turned to the small boy he was to be guarding from then on. The boy was looking at him with inquisitive eyes, and a small frown on his face. He had stopped kicking his legs, calming himself in front of another stranger, someone whose name he didn't even know. Tseng looked as the boy stared, wondering where this was going.
The boy smiled. "That's right, you said that. You said 'It's Tseng, of the Turks.' Is that your real name?"
Tseng frowned. How did this kid know about fake names, and aliases and whatnot? Well, he was the president's son, so it wasn't terribly surprising. But that he'd go out and ask it was surprising.
"Is it Wutaian?"
Another blunt question. Well, as least the kid wasn't screaming, or crapping his pants. "Yes."
The boy frowned again. "I've never heard a name like that in Wutaian."
"It's a certain dialect that's rarely used."
"Where are you from?"
Tseng frowned with the boy. Should he really be giving away this much personal information? Oh well, the kid could probably find out anyway, with his connections. "Wutai. Southern region."
The boy was silent for a moment, looking at the floor. It seemed he'd run out of questions. Was that a good thing? Tseng stood still uncomfortably, willing himself to deal with the situation.
"Aren't you going to ask my name?"
Tseng looked back at the boy. Is that what he was doing, making simple conversation? Tseng hated the idea, but went along with whatever the kid came up with. "I assumed that honorifics would be enough, sir."
"You told me yours, but I didn't tell you mine. Don't you want to know who I am?" The boy looked him straight in the eyes with a look Tseng hadn't seen before—it was both hurt and demanding. In this situation, that was bad. He tried not to make things worse.
"I-I apologize, sir."
The boy still looked hurt. Tseng thought he would explode if the boy kept that glare in his eyes, his incredibly blue eyes. Tseng found himself unable to look away, both because of the expression deep within them, and their sheer beauty. It was then that he noticed the pink and puffy eyelids around them. That's right, the child had been crying; It wasn't surprising. It was good however, that the child was taking it so well. Suddenly the eyes looked away once more, fixed to the floor.
"My name is Rufus. I don't like 'Sir.'"
"I'm sorry sir, it's a habit."
"Well stop it! Say Rufus."
"… I'm sorry… Rufus sir."
"That's not good enough! Take the 'sir' out."
"… I'm sorry sir."
"Urgh, you don't get it! Whatever…"
Tseng began to feel both annoyed and afraid at the same time, if that was possible. He was annoyed because a child would be so picky about his honorifics, and afraid that the child would use his father to punish him. And at the same time, if he didn't use 'sir', he could get in serious trouble. What was a poor young Turk to do? So he compromised. Now he just hoped it worked. Not only that, but he was surprised at the child's ability to comprehend and communicate. Well, it was to be expected from the president's son.
And what the hell was going on in that kid's head? His mother was dead, and he knew it. Or his father had told him something quite unpleasant, and thus led to the crying. But this kid… it was like nothing had happened at all. He had said something about his father acting "scary"—was he really that determined to please his father, that he had complete control over his emotions, and was acting completely professional? Save for the dislike of honorifics, that's what the boy as doing, being entirely professional. Tseng didn't like the thought, but Veld would probably tell him to learn from the boy, learn to control his emotions.
"What are you doing here?"
The boy was looking at him again. Looking again with that inquisitive look, those incredibly blue eyes. "I'm guarding your body," said Tseng, with little thought. He kicked himself mentally for the hundredth time that day for his lack of attentiveness, and hoped that the three-year-old in front of him wouldn't get any wrong ideas. Luckily, he didn't.
"I know that… why are you just standing there?"
"I have to be ready for anything, sir." Tseng was getting very uncomfortable with all the running around and standing still he'd done all day.
"You're just like Veld…"
Well, that's a good thing—that means I'm a good Turk, right? Tseng thought.
The child huffed, "Just sit down somewhere. You wanna play something?"
Tseng had to force himself to keep his eyes from rolling out of his head. Did he really have to play House? Why was everything he didn't want to happen today happening?
The boy jumped off the bed—which was much too big for him—and walked over to the desk, where a small box sat. He picked it up and set it on the floor in front of him. He lifted the lid off and set it beside him. "I don't have much with me, but my soldiers are fun to play with. The captains are really cool." He held up one of the dolls with a red scarf around its neck, apparently a captain. He started pulling out a bunch of the toy soldiers, setting them up in a sort of formation.
Tseng looked on with his eyebrows knitted together, speechless. Well, it's better than House. He'd be blowing up people instead of baking cakes. Great. He sat down in front of the small boy, going along with his little game. Apparently they were off to go destroy a rebel faction who had turned against Shinra.
His eyes never left the phone for a second. He probably hadn't blinked for a couple minutes now, and didn't notice the pain from his eyes drying out. Many people say no news is good news, but right now, the president wanted some news. Veld hadn't contacted him for an hour, not since he'd left to lead the investigation. They were still looking for that one man… From what he'd heard, there was very little evidence that helped point to a culprit, since they could be anywhere in Midgar. The various construction sites scattered through each sector didn't help, either—they just made more hiding places for suspicious individuals. That, and the fact that the Turks still weren't entirely on the job, were killing the president. He could almost feel his hair turning gray and falling out with stress and anticipation.
However, Veld was a responsible Turk, and he would report back at specific times, whether there was news or not. Sure enough, the phone rang, and the president snatched it up, almost dropping it onto the desk in front of him. "What's the situation?" He asked, frantically.
He was disappointed to hear a woman's voice on the other end. It wasn't Veld, after all. When the hell was he going to report? "We've reached the house, sir. It's secure, and in perfect condition. We're waiting for orders, sir."
So, those people were somewhat competent. They had been sent to inspect the house, and make sure it was okay. Next, he would decide what was to become of it. Apparently, he didn't want anyone living in it anymore, or at least his family.
"… Call Demolitions. I want that place flat by the end of the day. Leave everything inside." He ran his fingers through his hair.
"S-Sir?" Came the confused reply.
"You heard me, I want no trace of that place remaining."
There was a small hesitation. "What of the property, sir?"
The president thought for a moment. "Turn it into apartments, I don't care. Just destroy it, now."
He hung up. How many times in the last hour has someone called him for some stupid reason, like this one? He'd lost count. And there were bound to be even more, given his profession.
As if on cue, another call came in. He snatched it up, angrily, having no confidence that the person on the other side would be Veld. "What do you want?" He asked, with contempt.
It was man's voice this time, but not Veld's. It was only expected. "Sir, I'm sorry to bother you, but the funeral plans have not been completed-"
"I told you, just cremate the body. There won't be any more planning. There will be no ceremony. I don't want to hear anything else about it."
The man was confused. "B-But sir, are you sure-"
"I'm positive!" Yelled the president. "Say no more about it, or I'll have your job."
"Y-Yes sir." The line went dead.
The president went back to rubbing his temples. Was there no end to the incompetence these people had? He, the president, had to control everything, or something was bound to go wrong. There were some times when he hated being the president. He hated the responsibility, the hierarchy, not to mention the stupidity of everyone around him. These calls never seemed to end. Why didn't he just do everything himself, if they had to ask for his permission, or his guidance? But he was just one person, and running the whole world by himself would be impossible. And so he'd just go on dealing with these calls like a good presiden-
He really hoped it wasn't something else depressing. He just didn't want to think anymore. He picked up the phone once again, with distaste. "President Shinra speaking."
There was a male on the other end. "Mr. President, I'm sorry to bother you, but the girl you sent to the front is not there. I cannot escort her."
This guy was probably an infantryman, a simple guard. The president frowned, wondering where the girl could have gone. "Where did she go?"
"I have no idea, sir. I was told to escort her to an apartment in the sector 5 slums, but I've been waiting here for a couple of hours. My superior told me not to worry about it, but..." he trailed off. He must have been extremely nervous, talking to the president himself.
"Perhaps she left of her own volition. If she doesn't want Shinra's help, then that's her problem. I have much more important things to attend to."
The man was very nervous, indeed. "Y-Yes sir. Thank you, sir." The line went dead.
Where the hell was that girl, anyway? Was Yori really that unappreciative of his offer? He grumbled, frustrated. She just didn't understand, did she?
That reminded him of the dumb press conference he would have to go to soon. Everyone wanted to know if Wutai was responsible for the assassination "attempt," and what would be done about them. People wanted to know if the president and his son were alright. Really, what was he supposed to tell them? "Oh, okay, we're fine, it's like nothing even happened. Thanks you for your concern, and keep buying our mako please." Yeah, that's basically what he had to say. Sure, he would get some mourning time, but people needed a strong leader that could take anything thrown at him. Once he started talking about the future, the people would totally forget about the present, and what just happened to him.
That was the thing. He could just give up, and go away to take care of his son. That's what he really wanted to do, besides getting revenge. But what would happen to the company in the hands of those incompetent fools like Heidegger and Scarlet? All they cared about was money, and weapons. Nobody would be able to run the company like President Shinra could. Nobody could do it right. And so, he was sacrificing his life, his happiness, for this stupid company. He did it for the people of Gaia, so they could live easier. He did it, and nobody would even care in the long run. Hell, he'd probably be assassinated for some stupid rebel organization's cause. Everything just seemed so pointless now.
But he still had Rufus. He was going to do everything in his power to make sure nothing ever happened to his son. He'd make sure Rufus knew all he needed to know, and was prepared for any type of situation, so he could take over the company when the time came. He'd make sure Rufus had a future full of love and peace. He wasn't doing it for the people anymore, but for his son. Nothing was more important.
There it went again. What more did these people have to bother him with? He picked up the phone. "President Shinra speaking."
"Sir, I have urgent news."
He jumped, and his eyes widened. It was Veld, finally. "What is it? What happened?"
"We have reports that several construction workers in sector 4 have gone missing. This could mean a few things."
"And what are those?"
"One is that they were killed or abducted when the culprit fled. Another is that they were the culprits."
"What are you talking about? The only way that could be is if they were missing before the parade."
Veld was deathly serious, if that was any different than his usual tone of voice. "That's exactly what happened, sir. They've been missing since 12:24 PM. We know the description of these individuals, their addresses, and the like. The Turks are investigating the matter ask we speak."
The president was silent for a moment. "So, if you find these people, the culprit may be with them?"
"That is only my speculation, sir, but that is the best lead we've gotten so far."
There was silence once again. The president was elated, but still angry. Also, what if those reports were just a coincidence? But there was still hope, he had to keep telling himself that.
"Well then, keep up the good work, Veld. I'll be looking forward to any developments."
"Yes sir." The line went dead again. The president set the phone back down, and put his head in his hands. all he could do was wait, again. Well, he also had a press conference to go to. Great.
The gravel crunched under the man's boots as he paced back and forth in front of his friend. Everything was his fault, everything. Now they'd all be found, and their mission would fail.
"Man, what the hell did you think would happen? What, with you runnin' around makin' noise all over-"
"Look, I said I was sorry, okay? How was I supposed to know we were being watched?"
"You're supposed to pay attention, idiot...
"Yeah, well, it's hard to keep track of every single person around you. Especially when you've checked your surroundings over and over, and found nobody!" He stopped pacing and faced his friend. "I did all I could, okay? Maybe we'll be safe here. Nobody should find us."
"But that kid saw you! You think he's gonna keep quiet about it?"
"I dunno. He looked like a rotten little redhead, though. Like he'd ask for a big price for the info. Hell, he might even come after me and try to blackmail or something. That's when we get him."
The two calmed down. There was no way they'd be found out just because of one little kid. But with the Turks and the army after them, and SOLDIER guarding all the exits to the city, there was no way to escape. They'd have to wait it out, until Shinra gave up, and called back their forces to attend to a more important issue.
The man looked up, and and a tiny stream of light reflected of of the frames of his glasses. "Please don't tell the boss about this. I don't think he'll react well to hearing that I may have destroyed years of planning in one moment." He held the cross hanging from his neck like a lifeline.
His burly friend smirked. "Don' worry, I got your back. But we gotta hide you, along with the other guys. I'm sure Shinra's made the connection between the missing workers and the assassination by now. You have any idea where they went?"
The man looked at the ground. "I dunno. I got a message from Cliff before all hell broke loose. He said it would be impossible to rendezvous with the rest of us."
The other man cursed. "Man, how are we gonna find them now? I told them to take phones-"
"And you know the risks that would come with that. Tracking, interception, et cetera..."
"Yeah, and only you would know about that." The man frowned at his maroon-haired friend.
The man smirked in return. "Well, nobody's better at that kind of stuff than me, of course. But seriously, we should try to find everyone. And keep a look out for that kid!" He jabbed a finger at his friend, for emphasis. "He's got scraggly red hair and a squirt gun, and probably a stupidly arrogant grin on his face. If you see him, take him out. Or better yet, capture him, so we can find out if he told anyone."
"Right-o, meet back here in an hour, got it?"
They parted, heading off in opposite directions. The maroon-haired man ducked around a corner into an alley when a Shinra infantryman passed by. He smirked. Like they'd find anyone using the army. Those guys weren't trained for anything other than being a meat-shield. They'd have no chance against what was coming for them.
He was having second thoughts though. The mission failed today, and he may have started a war. Wutai wasn't even responsible for the screw up, and they would pay for it. Some people were so stupid sometimes. Then again, if the woman hadn't seen him, she might still be alive right now. And the president would be dead, instead. The mission would have been a success, and nobody else would have to suffer. Shinra would fall without its leader, and the world would be saved. But now it would just suffer through a long and bloody war. Wutai wouldn't give up under any circumstances, and Shinra would decimate its entire population if need be. How many people would die because of his stupid mistake?
He shook his head. After the infantryman passed around another corner, he ran on. He decided not to think about it. After all, if they didn't fight for the Planet, a future much worse would come to pass. All of humanity would die, along with every living organism on the Planet. It didn't matter how they stopped Shinra now-the ends justified the means.
Tseng looked from his captains getting blown away to see Rufus wiping his eyes, They were wet, but the small boy looked to be trying to hide that fact. The boy sniffed, and yawned.
"Sir, it's getting late, and it's my responsibility to make sure you're in bed by eight o' clock."
Rufus looked up at him, tiredly. He hadn't been too enthusiastic about playing with his dolls-action figures, as he called them-and wouldn't eat much when dinner was sent up for him. The boy was having problems, that much he could tell. But what was a thirteen, almost fourteen-year-old supposed to do about it? Tseng wasn't a therapist, his job wasn't to make anyone feel better. He was a bodyguard. But he didn't like to see anyone in this sort of situation.
When the boy looked down again, he groaned, and didn't do anything. Tseng took the initiative, since the president's orders superseded any the boy would give him. "Sir, you need to get some sleep. Stand up." He stood, but the boy still didn't respond. "Sir..." Was he supposed to physically move the child, and put him to bed? Why did his job description have to be so vague? He'd have to ask Veld about it later.
"Call me Rufus."
Tseng looked at the boy, exasperatedly. He may have to compromise his beliefs to keep his job. "Rufus, sir..."
The boy grumbled. "You still don't get it. Just say Rufus. That's it." He looked up, that painful look boring into Tseng's soul. The young Turk was almost powerless in the face of it. He had to keep his composure, though, if he wanted to get this stubborn kid into bed on time.
"Rufus. You need sleep. People die from lack of sleep, did you know that?"
The boy frowned, almost questioningly. Then his expression softened to a more apathetic look. It killed Tseng to see such a young child with that sort of expression on their face. "Okay..." Rufus said, with a hint of disappointment and sadness in his voice. He stood, and went towards the huge bed that now belonged to him, and tried to take off his coat.
After a few failed attempts at getting the buttons undone, Tseng walked over to help. At first, Rufus grumbled, saying he could do it himself. But he knew better, and capitulated. Soon, Tseng took his bleached white jacket, and hung it in the closet. When he saw Rufus struggling with his shoes, he went over and easily undid the knots, setting the shoes inside the closet. He turned and walked back to the bed, where Rufus was already tucking himself in. The blankets were heavy and too large for such a small boy to move, so Tseng helped once again. When the boy was all comfortable and snuggled into the covers, the Turk felt a little better. He hadn't had much trouble with this child. But at the same time, he was disappointed. He wouldn't be seeing any real action any time soon. He stood up straight, and bowed his head to his new superior. "Good night, sir." He started toward the door.
He stopped, irritated. The kid was in bed, what more did he want, a bedtime story?
"Mom always reads me a story."
Tseng flinched. Why, why did the universe hate him so? All he wanted was to get to bed himself... he turned back around, and answered. "I don't see any books here, sir."
"So make one up."
Tseng was dumbfounded. How the hell was he supposed to know any bedtime stories? He wasn't that creative, either. He could shoot, track, and protect anything he needed to, bu he couldn't make up a stupid story. He wondered if he should go get Shuriken, but decided against it. "Allright, sir..."
Tseng started off nervously, as expected. "Uhh... Once upon a time, there was a little boy, named, uh... Rufus."
Rufus looked at him, an eyebrow raised. Tseng mentally kicked himself for the billionth time that day for his poor choice of words. "A-And, uh, he was the son a a powerful man, who was the... uh... leader of the tribe. And Rufus really liked to run and play with his friends, but he had responsibilities to attend to first. Like training. He had to become a mighty warrior, so he could, uh, defeat the evil Lord-"
"Scarlet." Rufus broke in.
Tseng raised his eyebrow, and went along with it. "Yes, the evil Lord Scarlet. Scarlet was causing trouble in the... the Department of Urban Development, trying to build large amounts of
carefully-placed turret guns, to keep their enemies from attacking the headquarters."
"Tseng, why does a tribe have a headquarters, and guns?"
Tseng frowned. "Um... it's complicated. They were about as advanced as we are, but they decided to be simple at the same time. But Scarlet wanted more and more power, and started to take over the tribe little by little. It was Rufus' job to keep her from her goal of ruling the world. And so, one day, Rufus was strong enough to fight Scarlet. Her forces were many in number, but they were no match for Rufus and his immense strength and agility. He broke into Scarlet's secret hideout, and held her hostage, forcing her to sign a treaty with the rest of the tribe, taking away her role as Weapons Development department chair. The end."
Tseng looked over at the boy, relieved to see that his story was so boring, and made so little sense, that he was already asleep. He turned and walked towards the door once more. He opened it, and set it so only he could unlock it from the outside. The he turned back to the sleeping toddler, his new charge.
"Goodnight, sir." He turned, and the door slid shut behind him.
He sighed in relief as he walked back down the hall to the elevator. He was about to hit the Down button when he noticed a message on his phone. It was from Veld.
Good work on the investigation today. We found many good leads thanks to you. Keep up the good work. Also, your apartment has been moved from the Turk's floor to the room next to Rufus Shinra's. There's a code on the door, 77253. It corresponds to your name, in case you forget it. Good luck, rookie.
Tseng looked at that last part with pride; the first little sliver of pride he'd felt since his career started that day. He smiled, for the first time in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, things would turn out okay.
EDIT: Uhh, Ima stupid. The Science Department is on the 67th floor, not the Turks. So I moved them to the 65th floor. I hope that's fine... I said 67th in chapter 2, so I need to change that. Blegh.