Double Drabble: Greed Machine (Seven Sins of ShinRa)
It's been a mighty while. Life ran me over with an 8X8. I wish I could post more, but I promise I've been working on the WIPs. They'll be out, eventually.
Meanwhile that, have a slice of what may as well be a series of double drabbles, born from a ff_fortnightly prompt from long ago that I didn't manage to write for: disguises. ShinRa is a nice front for so much dirt.
FFVII (Seven Sins of ShinRa), Rufus, PG, 200 words - Greed Machine
ShinRa is called Company - Rufus scoffs, Midgar too many stories below, beyond a barrier much thicker than glass, already spent of all its worth. Life drives itself to ruin down below, but ShinRa's ever growing, grasping glory will never perish as easily. He knows ShinRa for its true measure: a machine.
It's ever needy of more fuel, more existences to be shaped into the planned pattern and fit as new gears to the roaring engine. Rufus drinks his gin, considers - gets disgusted at the waste. They could work people to greater length, establish more profitable limits to the human power. He knows the Promised Land won't ever be reached with the current potency offered by their humbled, driveless society; there will be a time when even that will not be enough.
They need to be scared. He needs to be feared, be loved for that fear. ShinRa needs servicing.
"You have a free pass," he says and doesn't wait to hear Hojo cackling on the other end of the call. The screams soon trespass the sound-proof walls, mixing with the whine of the rusting metropolis outside to form the screech of a machine never sufficiently oiled by greed.
The other sins will come around shortly.
Meanwhile that, have a slice of what may as well be a series of double drabbles, born from a ff_fortnightly prompt from long ago that I didn't manage to write for: disguises. ShinRa is a nice front for so much dirt.
FFVII (Seven Sins of ShinRa), Rufus, PG, 200 words - Greed Machine
ShinRa is called Company - Rufus scoffs, Midgar too many stories below, beyond a barrier much thicker than glass, already spent of all its worth. Life drives itself to ruin down below, but ShinRa's ever growing, grasping glory will never perish as easily. He knows ShinRa for its true measure: a machine.
It's ever needy of more fuel, more existences to be shaped into the planned pattern and fit as new gears to the roaring engine. Rufus drinks his gin, considers - gets disgusted at the waste. They could work people to greater length, establish more profitable limits to the human power. He knows the Promised Land won't ever be reached with the current potency offered by their humbled, driveless society; there will be a time when even that will not be enough.
They need to be scared. He needs to be feared, be loved for that fear. ShinRa needs servicing.
"You have a free pass," he says and doesn't wait to hear Hojo cackling on the other end of the call. The screams soon trespass the sound-proof walls, mixing with the whine of the rusting metropolis outside to form the screech of a machine never sufficiently oiled by greed.
The other sins will come around shortly.