Infiltration Mission Tifa ~repack~ -

Not her own. The fear of the two guards currently crumpled in the corner of the loading bay, their nightsticks lying uselessly next to their unconscious forms. Tifa Lockhart adjusted the leather strap of her glove, listening to the rhythmic hiss of the ventilation shafts overhead. She didn’t break bones if she could help it. A swift, precise strike to the carotid artery, a soft catch of their falling bodies—clean, quiet, and merciful.

Tonight, Seventh Heaven was closed. And Tifa Lockhart was open for business. infiltration mission tifa

With a grunt that was more effort than sound, she drove her heel into the jamb just below the lock. It wasn't brute force; it was physics. The momentary flex of the frame tricked the sensor into thinking the door was misaligned. The bolt stuttered. The light flicked green. Not her own

He slid down the glass, unconscious.

As she slid the data into her vest, a floorboard creaked behind her. She didn’t break bones if she could help it

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.

The air in the Shinra warehouse tasted of ozone, stale coffee, and fear.