Metallic Maze

"Scooters?" Cloud said, skeptically.

"Scooters," Barret said confidently. "They may look fruity to you operators, but these things are clean and reliable. We just gotta follow the nose."

"The nose?" Cloud said.

"Stamp's nose," Tifa said, nodding at a drawing on the wall. "Our Sector 5 colleagues drew these for us to give us a route to the reactor."

Stamp was Shinra's mascot. For some reason, they'd chosen a particularly perverted looking Afghan hound, with long blonde hair, crossed eyes and her tongue sticking out. Who knew what kind of creep designed it, Cloud thought.

Fortunately after yesterday's near debacle, the route to the reactor was easy. Almost too easy. The only delay was the three or four times the trio had to stop so that Tifa could suck Barret's cock. Cloud had to turn away for those moments, going down the tunnel to give them privacy. It was so odd ... despite Barret being an alpha male, Tifa was the aggressor in demanding the encounters. Her eyes had been dilated the same time, her bosom swollen and panting. What was wrong with her? Had Barret done this to her?

***

The terrorists were late, Heidegger thought grumpily. He called the President, watching them crawl through the opening in the fence.

"You have nothing to worry about, sir. Preparations for the grand finale are proceeding without incident. I have the utmost confidence that everything will play out as you intended… Yes, of course. I will not fail you, sir," Heidegger said, giving his boss good news as always. His assistant looked nervous.

"Sir. Analytics reports that the results fall within the admissible range. However, the casualty rate significantly exceeds previous proje—"

Remind me," Heidegger said, exasperated, "what your job is. Is it to question the wisdom of your superiors and bemoan your personal, hardships?"

"Sir?"

"Casualty rate? You think I care about the casualty rate? They are pawns in a greater game. If your stock runs low, then go round up more from Sector 3 or wherever else. Use your head and bring me solutions instead of problems for a change, yes?"

"Of course ... Sir," the soldier said, plainly unhappy.

"It is so hard to find good help these days. Which is why the president ought to count his blessings. What would he do without me?" Heidegger laughed, a booming sound in the small security room. But he knew the truth. Men with little morality were ample in this world.