[The news spreads quickly, as often and as skewed as Shinra dictates it. The headlines of the day are rife with one breaking news topic in particular — Avalanche, the infamous terrorist group, had launched an attack on the city of Junon during one of the President’s speeches. Though many had escaped, the believed purpose of the operation — to assassinate the President — was a failure. Thanks to the courageous actions of SOLDIER, and the war hero Sephiroth himself, casualties were minimal, and investigations remain on-going.
In general, it is the truth. Shinra has only cut out the ugliest details, as they often do. Today’s lie of omission centers around none other than Rufus himself, discovered as the suspected traitor in the ranks, and caught with evidence of funneling both information and funding to Avalanche itself. His purpose? To dethrone his father.
Most would face execution for such an act of treachery, but President had always favored his son. Rufus earns little more than a slap on the wrist as a result, but is a stinging pain nonetheless — he is stripped of his authority in the company, of his home and his belongings, he is barred from only the most basic and bare minimum communications with Shinra employees, and all of his possessions are labeled as company property until otherwise notified. He is not allowed near HQ; his ID is flagged and probably tracked if he chooses to take advantage of public transportation. He has nothing to his name but his name, and what good is touting his influence across the lower plate, where he was left to fend for himself, if the people there do not deal in influence the same way they do above?
He’s left with the clothes on his back, a phone in his pocket (The Turks will check in on you, Rufus, he had been told), and the amount of gil he had on his person before he was escorted from top to below. And here he stands out like a sore thumb, but he doesn’t care. The stares and whispers (Is that the President’s son? Surely not. What would a man like that be doing down here? Looks eerily like him, though.) are too meager to bother him. His chest churns with irritation, his business-mind trying to salvage the situation with so little to work with. He has no contacts down here — the Turks do, but they’re still in his dad’s pocket.
No, that’s not true. He does have one contact.
They’ve dropped him off at Wall Market. He wonders if his father thinks he has a sense of humor, or the location was random. Doesn’t matter. With what money he has, it’s easy enough to purchase another phone and send a text to a certain info broker.]
I’m in Wall Market. South entrance. Meet me here, now. -R
no subject
In general, it is the truth. Shinra has only cut out the ugliest details, as they often do. Today’s lie of omission centers around none other than Rufus himself, discovered as the suspected traitor in the ranks, and caught with evidence of funneling both information and funding to Avalanche itself. His purpose? To dethrone his father.
Most would face execution for such an act of treachery, but President had always favored his son. Rufus earns little more than a slap on the wrist as a result, but is a stinging pain nonetheless — he is stripped of his authority in the company, of his home and his belongings, he is barred from only the most basic and bare minimum communications with Shinra employees, and all of his possessions are labeled as company property until otherwise notified. He is not allowed near HQ; his ID is flagged and probably tracked if he chooses to take advantage of public transportation. He has nothing to his name but his name, and what good is touting his influence across the lower plate, where he was left to fend for himself, if the people there do not deal in influence the same way they do above?
He’s left with the clothes on his back, a phone in his pocket (The Turks will check in on you, Rufus, he had been told), and the amount of gil he had on his person before he was escorted from top to below. And here he stands out like a sore thumb, but he doesn’t care. The stares and whispers (Is that the President’s son? Surely not. What would a man like that be doing down here? Looks eerily like him, though.) are too meager to bother him. His chest churns with irritation, his business-mind trying to salvage the situation with so little to work with. He has no contacts down here — the Turks do, but they’re still in his dad’s pocket.
No, that’s not true. He does have one contact.
They’ve dropped him off at Wall Market. He wonders if his father thinks he has a sense of humor, or the location was random. Doesn’t matter. With what money he has, it’s easy enough to purchase another phone and send a text to a certain info broker.]
I’m in Wall Market. South entrance. Meet me here, now.
-R