Post by shinra on Aug 25, 2010 5:00:35 GMT -5
Timeline: Hours after the flower girl from the slums was rescued by the now liberated forces beneath ex-SOLDIER Cloud Strife. ShinRa located atop the floor 70’s outdoor balcony, ruminating… Plotting.
The president of the ShinRa corporation glanced across the stony overlook of the balcony, overseeing Midgar in all of its crawling, insalubrious gluttony with a callous peer toward the collapsed Sector 7 plate, giving a moment for those trapped beneath the metallic ‘pizza‘. The poor folk. The under-shadow dwellers. Such poverty... It‘s truly vile, mused the late President’s inherent successor, a very acute upward slant forming at the edge of his manipulative lips, but at least it’s not as if they don‘t deserve it. Those peasants reek of self-imposed squalor… How nauseating it would be to share the same air as those contaminated scum.
Wishing himself well, savouring the crisp air atop the very pinnacle of the ShinRa building, the president Rufus arched his hands behind his back, linking the pallid digits with hook-like joints against one another to oversee the besmirched compound of the netherworld of sin and vice below in the hive-like slums. He was truly ignorant of the poor folk below; an isolated, outcast of their society and yet ironically the very sole being who was in complete and utter control over their lives and well… Wellbeing wasn’t particularly the word for it, since they lived in some sort of cesspool of backward technology and their own quick thinking, but Rufus did have a say over what little health and freedoms theydid have.
Fear…
Fear is how I‘ll govern these people.
It‘s how I‘ll make them understand what we’re capable of. Anything out of line will be punishable by death. Anything suspicious will result in the removal of their power sources and care. One wrong foot out of line, inwardly preached ShinRa, who was lost in a train of malevolent thought at the time, and I will send not just one plate, but all of them to flatten those who do ShinRa injustice. Selfish to the very end, ShinRa never particularly cared about the crime syndicates undermining those thoughts, so long as they were accountable unto the company for informants and tip-offs about the terrorists and rebels. But how he hated these foetid places.
These grimy, unbearable people. It perverted him more than anything from the course of justice and reliability. No, this was a new world order. An order of control, fear and an iron grip unable to be relinquished. This was… His world. Looking constantly for upsets, margins of errors, anything just to show the people below what ShinRa was capable of. Executions, punishments, beatings, the destruction of electric and power unto those below. Of course it was cruel… That was just part of being the leader of the world, wasn’t it?
The metallic drone of a helicopter’s rotating blades jettisoned into the air. The vehicle was carried through the air, guided by a set of underhanded ShinRa employees who saluted the president as they passed. Complete… Utter control over the little people. It was perfection. The only slight glitch with this was the very source which had given him power in the first place - that of the Nightmare Reborn, Sephiroth. The consumer of flesh and bone, he who would light aflame an entire town with his mere madness. Azure eyes flickered outward towards the horizon, made hazy and twilight by the billowing industrial plumes coating the drenched atmosphere of the corrupted settlement and Headquarters of the man who ruled the world.
Turning, pivoting on his heel, the slow clattering of soles on the durable surface of the balcony came to an abrupt end when the slick vertical shimmying of the electronic door awoke entry to his inherited office. The clacking noises vanished as his shoes hit upon the smooth carpeted surface of his office, still flushed with ideas of how to make a quick, swift example of those who would disobey ShinRa. Conceited enough, was ShinRa, that he would wish an uprising against his own company just to demonstrate the penalties of doing so. As if answering his thoughts, an employee of executive class pushed himself through the crowds of denizens below, tearing up the stairs with his skin a blustered, crimson hue.
”Sir, the employee heaved out through chattering lips. Clearly this was an anxious moment for him. The highlight of his career, “intruders! We believe them to be on the lower floors, but climbing very quickly! Your orders, president sir?”
A smile forming at his lips once again.
Perfect.
“Station guards at every floor.
…Kill them.”
And as he ordered, the imperative was obeyed the finest details. Cautious, armed guards on every floor. Some trained, some not. It didn’t matter. They knew how to use their rifles, and use them well. Not to mention some whirring, alert guard droids…
The president of the ShinRa corporation glanced across the stony overlook of the balcony, overseeing Midgar in all of its crawling, insalubrious gluttony with a callous peer toward the collapsed Sector 7 plate, giving a moment for those trapped beneath the metallic ‘pizza‘. The poor folk. The under-shadow dwellers. Such poverty... It‘s truly vile, mused the late President’s inherent successor, a very acute upward slant forming at the edge of his manipulative lips, but at least it’s not as if they don‘t deserve it. Those peasants reek of self-imposed squalor… How nauseating it would be to share the same air as those contaminated scum.
Wishing himself well, savouring the crisp air atop the very pinnacle of the ShinRa building, the president Rufus arched his hands behind his back, linking the pallid digits with hook-like joints against one another to oversee the besmirched compound of the netherworld of sin and vice below in the hive-like slums. He was truly ignorant of the poor folk below; an isolated, outcast of their society and yet ironically the very sole being who was in complete and utter control over their lives and well… Wellbeing wasn’t particularly the word for it, since they lived in some sort of cesspool of backward technology and their own quick thinking, but Rufus did have a say over what little health and freedoms they
Fear…
Fear is how I‘ll govern these people.
It‘s how I‘ll make them understand what we’re capable of. Anything out of line will be punishable by death. Anything suspicious will result in the removal of their power sources and care. One wrong foot out of line, inwardly preached ShinRa, who was lost in a train of malevolent thought at the time, and I will send not just one plate, but all of them to flatten those who do ShinRa injustice. Selfish to the very end, ShinRa never particularly cared about the crime syndicates undermining those thoughts, so long as they were accountable unto the company for informants and tip-offs about the terrorists and rebels. But how he hated these foetid places.
These grimy, unbearable people. It perverted him more than anything from the course of justice and reliability. No, this was a new world order. An order of control, fear and an iron grip unable to be relinquished. This was… His world. Looking constantly for upsets, margins of errors, anything just to show the people below what ShinRa was capable of. Executions, punishments, beatings, the destruction of electric and power unto those below. Of course it was cruel… That was just part of being the leader of the world, wasn’t it?
The metallic drone of a helicopter’s rotating blades jettisoned into the air. The vehicle was carried through the air, guided by a set of underhanded ShinRa employees who saluted the president as they passed. Complete… Utter control over the little people. It was perfection. The only slight glitch with this was the very source which had given him power in the first place - that of the Nightmare Reborn, Sephiroth. The consumer of flesh and bone, he who would light aflame an entire town with his mere madness. Azure eyes flickered outward towards the horizon, made hazy and twilight by the billowing industrial plumes coating the drenched atmosphere of the corrupted settlement and Headquarters of the man who ruled the world.
Turning, pivoting on his heel, the slow clattering of soles on the durable surface of the balcony came to an abrupt end when the slick vertical shimmying of the electronic door awoke entry to his inherited office. The clacking noises vanished as his shoes hit upon the smooth carpeted surface of his office, still flushed with ideas of how to make a quick, swift example of those who would disobey ShinRa. Conceited enough, was ShinRa, that he would wish an uprising against his own company just to demonstrate the penalties of doing so. As if answering his thoughts, an employee of executive class pushed himself through the crowds of denizens below, tearing up the stairs with his skin a blustered, crimson hue.
”Sir, the employee heaved out through chattering lips. Clearly this was an anxious moment for him. The highlight of his career, “intruders! We believe them to be on the lower floors, but climbing very quickly! Your orders, president sir?”
A smile forming at his lips once again.
Perfect.
“Station guards at every floor.
…Kill them.”
And as he ordered, the imperative was obeyed the finest details. Cautious, armed guards on every floor. Some trained, some not. It didn’t matter. They knew how to use their rifles, and use them well. Not to mention some whirring, alert guard droids…