The Wutain ninja looked over her shoulder towards the door in surprise, not used to
being addressed while in the middle of reading a file. She wasn’t actually reading the
file, of course, but the materia catalog enclosed inside the thick manila folder she was
holding gave such a convincing illusion that she was that Yuffie had almost begun to
believe it herself. She’d gotten used to her system of not working coming through for her,
and this sudden hitch in her plans was an instant annoyance.
“Can it wait, Tseng?” she asked, “I’m pretty busy.”
Decked out in his usual blue, the pale leader of the Turks leaned patiently against the
door frame he’d poked his head through and crossed his arms, willing to put forth the
extra effort to make his presence appear effortless. He studied Yuffie carefully for a few
moments, hoping she would remember that he wasn’t one of her house servants, but that
wait proved in vain when she returned to the papers she had clutched in her hand and
began to mumble happily about fire and summons. “No,” he said, after she had just sunk
back into her reading, jarring her to consciousness, “I don’t think it can.”
“Fine, fine,” she muttered unhappily, and placed the folder carefully on her dark brown
desk to prevent any unwanted contraband from slipping out. She idly flipped off her
reading light, repositioned two of her pictures, spun a pen around a few times and then
turned the light back on because she liked the effect it caused, before standing up and
walking over to where Tseng stood, regarding her with mild distaste. “Hi,” she said
simply.
Without responding, the assassins’ leader shook his head and turned on his heel, walking
calmly and crisply down the wooden corridors that made up the head quarters. Yuffie
followed a few steps behind, her step quicker than his, but she continually kept getting
held up by the various pictures that Elena had framed and posted up on the walls of the
building. She was growing quickly desperate to find a single snap shot that didn’t include
alcohol, a weapon, and a well manicured finger covering one portion of the lens, but that
hope never came to fruition as they reached Tseng’s office.
At least, Yuffie thought it was Tseng’s office. The fact that there was a young man in the
corner who continually twitched at any loud noise and the remnants of bloody green
feathers on the floor would have tipped off a more observant employee to the contrary,
but Yuffie’s mind had made its merry little way back to her catalog, and a particularly
effective little blue materia that was supposed to power a summon with your own sense
of bouncy charm.
“Please, sit,” Tseng instructed, gesturing towards a small, shaky, three legged stool that
sat across the desk, and didn’t seem able to support anything heavier than a small book or
a large squirrel. Shooting Tseng a dark look, as he leaned back in a massive leather chair
that seemed to have heating coils, a massage feature, and some sort of expresso machine,
Yuffie delicately balanced herself on the shaky object.
“Will this take long?” Yuffie asked. “I’m trying to get back to the case I’m studying.”
“No,” Tseng said dismissively.
“Good, because it-”
“No, not no.” Tseng informed her, his gaze never wavering. “No.”
Yuffie paused. “I’m confused,” she said, in one of the most honest statements of her life.
After her little debacle with Reno a few nights earlier, she’d decided she would start
asking questions early. She had also decided to stop assuming people were financing you
to have sex with your on again, off again boyfriend, but that was beside the point.
“I wasn’t allaying your fear that this will be a lengthy process,” Tseng explained, “I was
denying your claim that you wanted to get back to studying a case.”
Yuffie fought the wave of crimson she felt rising into her cheeks. “Oh yeah?” she
demanded, “and how would you know that?”
“Because,” he said simply, “I have yet to assign you a case.”
“So!?” Yuffie asked, feeling very reminiscent of the time she’d used that exact phrase to
a cop that had not only caught her red handed robbing a store, but had caught her doing it
with one of those big bags with a dollar sign on it that had seemed like such a good idea
to use at the time. Her path down memory lane brought her across an old Christmas
cartoon featuring a hideous green creature, and so she thought up a lie- and thought up
one quick. “I was studying some old cases you guys have taken, trying to get a feel for
how things are done!”
She seemed to think that her cover up, which not only absolved her but also put her in an
employee of the month situation, deserved to win some sort of award. Tseng seemed to
believe differently, however, as he leveled her with his sternest gaze. “I’m going to
pretend you never said that,” he informed her, “both because I don’t appreciate being
treated like one of your old high school teachers, and because Elena would never allow
such incriminating evidence as reports on old jobs we took to fall into the hands of
someone who has racked up a whopping three days worth of loyalty to the Turks.”
“That’s not true!” Yuffie insisted. “It was on embezzlement from a company that
produces cyrocleaners!”
Tseng lowered his head so he was looking directly at his desk, and winced. “Yuffie,” he
said in a strained voice, “I’m quite aware you just made that word up.”
“Ah.” Yuffie said, and because she could think of nothing else to respond with, said it
again, before inspiration hit her like a bolt of lightning. She could change the subject! “Is
that why you called me in here,” she asked, “to finally assign me a case?”
“Actually,” he said, “this is about your expense report.”
“Oh?” Yuffie asked, with considerable disappointment. She had been hoping to get
thrown into a blood and guts mission that involved heroism and some serious looting,
and was suddenly confronted with a probably lecture for not crossing a ‘t’ or dotting an
‘i’. Or, she realized, there was equal chances that she had crossed and dotted a few times
too many.
“Well, for one thing,” Tseng began, a look of tired amusement on his face, “you have
one.”
“So?” Yuffie asked, “I thought you would be happy to have a record of the things I saved,
its a lot better than me just randomly spending the groups money, isn’t it?”
“Actually, I’m quite fond of the expense sheet system as a whole,” Tseng responded, “but
I often find that a sudden kink gets thrown into the works when a new recruit hands me
one for thousands of dollars when I *haven’t assigned her any work yet*!”
“Well, I need clothes, don’t I!?” Yuffie responded angrily. “The blue uniform, and
everything? And a weapon! I needed a weapon! Those things don’t come free, you
know... and even if they do, its because I stole them, and I think I deserve a little bit of
reconciliation for my efforts there.”
“You were provided,” Tseng said levelly, “with a standard uniform- two, in fact, one in
the sizes you wrote in on your profile, and another in the actual sizes that Elena had you
evaluated at. Interestingly enough, those two numbers were even further apart than the
comparison of your written age to that stated on your birth certificate.”
“So I’m not the best at clerical work,” Yuffie said, glaring at him, and unconsiously
reaching back to make sure the tag to her new pants was tucked in, “so sue me.”
“You were also issued,” Tseng continued, ignoring her utterly, “a standard pistol and
several boxes of ammunition, and that’s just as a signing bonus- we have an open
weapons locker that can be freely accessed at any time, even when you aren’t currently
on assignment. I believe you were shown this locker. Several times.”
“I didn’t like your selection,” Yuffie said defiantly, “nothing there fit my style.”
“By ‘your style’,” Tseng said condescendingly, “I assume you mean your chakrams. So
you mean to tell me that your four figure expense report can be attributed to you
foregoing the latest in firearm technology, munitions charges, and incendiary devices to
go purchase a circle. With sharp edges. That you can throw. And already own several
variations of.”
Yuffie stuck her chin up. “Define several.”
Tseng sighed, and dropped the sheet he was holding, reaching up to massage his
forehead. A thin sheen of sweat that had developed on his pale features picked up the
excess ink on his finger tips like a sponge, and his naturally colored dot that resided
between the man’s two eyes was suddenly covered by a massive blot of shiny blue. As
Yuffie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from bursting into laughter, Tseng reached
forward and thumbed a button on the desk, causing a bell to go off in the corner of the
room. Yuffie glanced over to the source of the noise, which happened to be the cowering
young man, who stood less than ten feet away. “Y-yes sir?” the man asked, taking a
cautious step forward as if he expected the floor to swallow him whole.
“Kevin,” Tseng said, “I need you to go find Rude and tell him to come in here. Tell him
to stop by the weapons locker first and find something compact that doesn’t make a lot of
mess, but is strong enough to take someone out at a relatively close distance.”
As Kevin rushed off to perform his appointed task, Yuffie watched Tseng warily. “Is
Rude going to shoot me?” she asked simply, and judging by the look her new boss gave
her, she instantly began to rethink her Reno-inspired policy of asking questions early.
“Why would he do that?” Tseng asked, sounding genuinely interested in her train of
thought.
“Well,” she started, “not by any personal vendetta, but you have caught me in about a
half dozen bold faced lies in this conversation alone. I mean, that’s not even taking into
account how I accidentally smashed into your car this morning on the way to the office or
that one time I stole the condom from your wallet before you went out on your date with
that girl who was moving out of the country.”
Tseng froze, his mind working. That had been months ago, before he had even
considered hiring Yuffie, back when her and Reno had at least pretended to have some
interest in each other that wasn’t just physical. “That was you!?” he demanded.
“I... no?” Yuffie said sweetly, inwardly wishing she’d suffered some sort of childhood
illness that rendered the afflicted mute. Luckily, the situation was saved by an unlikely
angel with a bald head and a pair of sunglasses, as Rude walked into the room with a
rather small Derringer that may have been black at one time, but now appeared to have
been painted red by several covert activities.
“You wanted to see me?” Rude asked, then did a double take as Tseng turned to face
him, the blue splatter on his forehead sticking out like an arrow. The bald sharpshooter
shot a look at Yuffie, who shrugged in response, as if she had no idea where the offensive
mark had come from.
“Yes,” Tseng obliviously responded. “First, I want to ask you a few questions about your
last mission. Then, I want you to hand that gun to Miss Kisargi, and then go back to the
open locker and seal it shut.”
“OK...” Rude said in obvious surprise, cocking an eyebrow up and above his sunglasses.
“What was the goal of your last mission, Rude?” Tseng asked simply.
Rude paused for a moment, rooting through the encyclopedic filing system that resided
inside his head and coming up with the answer in the same amount of time it Yuffie to
realize she had been dwelling on the various kinds of Bahumats and had missed the
question entirely. “I was to lay the foundation for black market operations in Gold
Saucer,” he said.
“Uh huh,” Tseng said, nodding approvingly, “and what all did that entail?”
“Three assassinations, a couple dozen briberies, six contract employees and a personal
friendship with the vice president of the amusement park,” Rude said, as if reading off an
index card.
“And what did that cost you?”
“Three thousand, two hundred, and eighty five dollars.” Rude said. “Three thousand of
that being the briberies and the collective salaries of the contract employees.”
“So you could say that you only spent two hundred and eighty five dollars to kill three
men and make your way into the heart of one of the most powerful men in the world?”
“You could say that, sir.”
“Anyway,” Tseng said, turning in his chair to face Yuffie again. “Does that number ring
any particular bell to you?”
“Which one?” Yuffie asked, a growing worry gnawing at the inside of her gut.
“The first one,” He said.
“Uh...” Yuffie froze. She’d already been caught lying far too many times in the last ten
minutes, but she really didn’t like the way this was going. “Is there any chance that it’s
the number on my expense report?”
“I believe there might be a chance,” Tseng said, his voice growing in volume as he spoke,
“In fact, I believe that the odds against it make winning the lottery while getting struck by
lightning look like a sure thing. I believe that those two figures, one for a completely
unnecessary shopping spree, and the other for a million dollar profit opportunity
operation that required months of planning and almost a year of effort, match up
EXACTLY. Now what, my little new recruit, do you have to say about that?”
Yuffie froze. Was this a trick question? Was there honestly any answer on this planet that
would either save her job- or at the very least spare her some revolted tonsils and sore
knees- in this situation? She shrugged and winged it. “It happens?”
Tseng’s eyes glittered dangerously. “Yes,” he said, with savory calmness. “It does. Rude?
How much did you spend on that suit, and the custom pistol you had made so you could
shoot someone in the ear and they still wouldn’t hear it?”
“I believe it was three hundred dollars, sir, with my accumulated store discounts and
protection fees.” Rude answered, a dreamy note coming into his voice as he spoke of his
gun.
“Fair enough,” Tseng said, shooting Yuffie a venomous look. “That’s your new budget.
You’re to go secure me a new car that does not have the remnants of your headlights
lodges in the drivers side door, with that money. And I’m going to assume I want it with
the letters ‘BMW’ located at least six different locations on the exterior.”
Yuffie blinked, opening her mouth to object to the unfairness of the assignment. Idly,
Tseng reached his hand out, into which Kevin the secretary slapped an all too familiar
looking manila folder. Tseng opened the folder, revealing the materia catalog lodged
within, and showed it to Yuffie, who promptly lodged her jaw back up into its original
position. “Right away,” she said meekly, and when Tseng held up the catalog again, she
sighed. “Sir.”
Chapter Five