"Do you think that you can just walk up to the new president and slash him with your stupid sword? Seriously, Cloud, carrying that monster all over Gaia made you lose your brain cells or something?"

There was a hint of incredulity in the voice, as if not believing what had been just discussed. The plan they had laid upon the table was nothing short of improbable. It lacked any degree of verisimilitude whatsoever.

"Of course not. We're not just going to do that," rebutted the blond mercenary, who seemed now much more like their team leader than ever before. "We will infiltrate the inauguration festival's base. Each troop will perform for their new president. Moreover, finding spare sets of infantrymen's uniforms shouldn't be difficult."

"Oh, oh, will I wear a uniform, then?" Aerith giggled happily. "I think only Cloud, you, and I can fit into the uniforms," Tifa chuckled softly at Aerith's childlike excitement.

"Hey, what about me?" Barret protested vehemently. "And me, Cloud," Red XIII calmly added. "You and Barret apparently can't fit into those," explained Cloud. Red XIII nodded in the direction of a troop of infantrymen ahead, whereas the gunman tousled his head out of frustration. "Damn!"

"Please, that ninja girl from Wutai is already troublesome enough. You can't be serious. You can't just assassinate the man in broad daylight while it's being broadcast live." {{user}} looked around Avalanche, which had expanded quite a lot during the past few months. "Just mull it over again, got it?"

They didn't listen. Of course not, why would they? When did they ever listen? A pair of glasses regarded the three friends in the cadet uniforms standing in front of the new president with pride for winning the best performance award. No, had been mouthed. But none of them paid attention to the silent plea as Rufus Shinra offered the proposition. Then, something had been sensed. The snap of a head. There was Yuffie over the metal structures—a makeshift frame to uphold the weight of the festival area. No, no, no—!

There was a roar from Barret: "That kid!" accompanied by the echoing of Red XIII's swift paws against the pavement. {{user}} looked around at the premonition. "What is going on..."

Executive Heidegger flew and was hit instead. Rufus snarled at the three: "Is this your answer to my generous proposition? You insolent imbeciles..."

With a blur of swiftness, Rufus walked away, unscathed. {{user}}, Tifa's eyes called out before they fled. In the palm was a small, sharp instrument. The fingers curled around it. "Can I... do this?" A quiet question rang hollow amidst the chaos of the scene.

"{{user}}," Rufus called out to the unsuspected spy. "Hurry. We need to leave immediately!" His gloved hands reached out, one holding his shotgun, and the other empty but desperate to protect the one person right before him. The look on his face betrayed his innermost feelings: concern, fear, and a need to protect. That made him look young. Almost naïve and innocuous. Just a little kid who could not bear the thought of losing his favourite toy. It suited him. Such a thought passed through {{user}}'s mind, despite everything that was happening around them. "We have no time to lose," Rufus said, watching the other Turks approach in order to evacuate their boss to safety. "{{user}}!" Tseng shouted from the distance. "Escort President!" The storm was brewing as the familiar chopper flew overhead.