Infiltration Mission Tifa ((new)) -

Cloud was the distraction tonight. He was brilliant at that—a silent, spiky-haired ghost haunting the upper reactor catwalks, drawing the security bots and the heavy patrols toward the east wing with a few well-placed blips on their motion sensors. Meanwhile, she had taken the "plumbing" route. The sewers. The basement corridors. The places Shinra’s white-collar executives forgot existed.

Her left hand shot back, not to strike, but to parry. Her knuckles met the hard bone of a shin—a kick aimed at her spine. She absorbed the impact, pivoted on her left foot, and unleashed a rising uppercut that connected with the underside of a Turk’s jaw. The man, sleek in his black suit, flew backward two feet before his skull met the edge of a specimen tank.

Infiltration wasn't about being invisible. It was about belonging. infiltration mission tifa

She didn't run. Running was loud. She walked—fast, fluid, and silent—back through the door, through the corridor, toward the rusted ladder that led to the surface. As she climbed, the cold wind of the Midgar night hit her face, carrying the stench of the slums below. She wiped a smear of blood off her lip—she hadn't even felt the Turk’s kick graze her.

She slipped inside.

"Already done," she whispered back.

She pressed her ear to the cold metal. Click-hiss. That was the cycle. A three-second gap between the solenoid engaging and the bolt throwing. Her fingers traced the edge of the door frame, finding the maintenance override—a tiny, recessed toggle. Cloud was the distraction tonight

Tifa shook out her hand. The knuckles were raw. She glanced at the Turk’s prone form. Sorry. She meant it. Most of them were just former soldiers trying to pay a pension.